#just weathering the suffering and waiting for it to dull | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollyhomburg · 7 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you never thought that just cuddling with Hobi on a cold day could lead to this; his pants off and you begging "Daisy please-"

Tags: fluff, a little hurt but mostly just comfort, first times, soft cuddle sex, unintentional mutual somnophilia, knotting, scenting, under clarified limits, a touch of slick kink, breeding kink, a touch of size kink (you know the good stuff), unrealistic amounts of cum, implied belly bulge, implied feral sex, small triggers after sex, small references to past abusive relationships, hole check's, knot checks, dom/sub undertones to later scenes but not in the main smut,

W/c: 14.2k

A/n: thank you guys for being patient for this next chapter :) it's one of my favorites so please give it lots of love! i know we've all been waiting for hobi's confession and the completion of their arc, did i do it justice? Also i'm sorry that i have a pathological need to end every single chapter with a cliffhanger lol, this one is no different!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

(5 years ago. Before Yoongi. Before everyone.)

Jung Hoseok cleans his arms in a bathroom. He is 21 years old, there is lipstick on his fingers, and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Bad is all relative of course. Some would call growing up in a rich area while living in a one-bedroom apartment bad. Some people would call not really knowing your parents because they work late nights bad. Some would even say that the fact that they won’t pay for Hoseok’s college education a fucking tragedy.

But between you and me and Hoseok; other people wouldn't know a fucking tragedy if it hit them in the fucking face. Talking to some people about your suffering is like trying to make a toddler shoot the broad side of a god damn barn with a double barrel shotgun. Or like those little lemon slices they put in the water at olive garden-

It's fucking useless. And you're more likely to be sent to the hospital than get some actual fucking results. Weather it's because of food poisoning, a bullet wound, or because some idiot you trusted thinks you're a god damn suicide risk.

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

But he’s always been able to focus on the brighter side of things. It's a blessing and a curse because optimism always lies to you. It's easier to be happy than it is to be upset, at least for Hoseok at this moment.

At least he was an optimist until they ruined him a little. After this year, finding the silver will take effort.

The tiles beneath his feet are cold to the touch. He knows that there’s a button somewhere to turn on the heated flooring but he just can’t find it. Hidden and unfamiliar as he is with this den. So different from his own little dormitory halfway across the city.

This fancy three-bedroom apartment is one that he will move into in precisely 4 months once they make it official, he’ll live here for exactly 2 years 3 months, and 8 days before being kicked out and moving into the pack's den. It’s exactly 2 years to the date that he meets Min Yoongi in the record store.

But nothing bad has happened to him yet. Today he is just himself, No idea of what's about to befall him and that It won't just be bad.

This apartment is upscale, with its wainscotting and long gauzy curtains that barely keep out the sound of the city streets 5 stories below and the lightly warm June morning. He’s not quite sure who pays for this one yet. Hasn’t had the chance to ask, he's only been seeing this pack for 2 months. This Hoseok is shyer than the one you know. Timid and unsure of where he should place his dulled claws.

It's all awfully mysterious. The question of "What do your parents do?" and the answer pressed to a raised finger. The truth lingering between lipstick and manicure on a single giggled breath.

"That's a secret"

He casts a glance around the bathroom, the marble counters, the plush hand towels, and even the designer soap is forghein to him.

Rich people.

It's one part tired jealousy and one part true distaste. Even if Hoseok had all the money in the world he wouldn't waste it on painting a bathroom white or powdery Dior soap. Why not blue or orange or green or pink?

(Oh Hobi. The pack’s bathroom will be green one day, with delicate tiles in the shade of the lightest moss. Not yellow-toned and not blue. he's going to help yoongi pick it out, He just doesn’t know it yet).

Their apartment is just a few blocks from the college that he attends, a freshman but not for much longer. A freshman, along with the pack's youngest. Her on the business track and him in a weed-out art department. The prerequisite humanities course is their shared battleground.

Out of everything in this story, this is the only true coincidence.

This version of Hoseok likes omegas with a bit of a dark side. The ones that are a bit bitchy, a bit entitled and alot pretty. The ones that hone their eyeliner to a vicious edge, or the male ones that act a little bit more like alphas and disobey gender norms. That’s what drew his eye to this pack's youngest in their hum 1 class.

He got a little melty when her eyes turned less “I’ll kill you if you even sniff in my direction” and more “A pretty alpha like you has to have a pack right?”

Hoseok had stuttered when he’d said that No- he didn’t.

Before long he’ll drop out because he just can’t cut it at art school. Just can’t spend nights with fingers black from charcoal, working on things that will one day be thrown in the garbage because he’ll have a pack to attend to. Good alpha that he is.

(It will be years before he realizes that it wasn't art school just mediums. He’s meant to use flowers to make things instead.)

They’re not his pack yet, not yet. not yet. Not Yet- But there is a gift waiting for him downstairs. A fancy set of pastels and paints. It’s the start of courting even though he’s supposed to be the one buying them gifts. He’s the penniless college student they’re the ones with the nice apartment. He’s the one with the knot, and they’re all omegas. It’s a give-and-take.

Yet somehow even though he’ll be the only alpha he knows he won’t be the pack alpha.

He cleans the lipstick from his fingers. Bright red. He knows he has it in other places too, down below the tugged low hemline of his pants pulled on after they were done fucking.

The last thing he wants to be is like the other alphas in the fraternities on campus, the ones that holler at all the omegas shit like “I can taste your slick from here baby,” and “want to study anatomy together? I’m a hands-on learner” Hobi dreads the idea that he might be like that. Even a little bit. Even unintentionally.

But still, their words from earlier ring in his ears.

“They haven’t been dating for that long, you can’t expect us to be comfortable all the time with you in our nest, it's a really intimate thing for us."

Hobi feels like one of those phraternity alphas when it makes him uncomfortable.

It’s reasonable that they wanted to give his knot a ride and try him out before they make it official. One alpha and four omegas, these odds are every alpha’s wet dream. He knows his performance was Oscar-worthy.

It had been nice to be in a nest for just a little bit, Hoseok’s biology wants it, the tense knot between his shoulders all loose.

Hoseok has never been loved by someone who wanted to talk to him every day, it will be easy for them to reduce his focus to their beck and call.

There's 4 different colors of lipstick on his cock. Four different shades from four different women. His new packmates get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick arrangement.

In the future, he’ll deny that he ever thought of any of these women as that- as packmates. He'll say it was only ever Namjoon’s pack that he wanted in this way. He’ll say it never compared and it didn’t. Except for these first few months. These first few days.

Memories lie to us all the time; memory is the best secret keeper.

He watches one of his packmates sit on the edge of the nest, she wears the lipstick prints better than he does. Lining the inside of her thighs, her own lips smudged.

Hoseok doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips and she smiles back. She tugs her long hair free of a bun that she’d put it up in so that she didn’t get slick in it. It will be a few more months until she cuts it above her collarbones. Blunt to a brutal edge.

Hoseok’s sweatshirt is on the edge of the nest, and Hoseok watches as she brings it to her nose, breathing in deep. Hoseok is just about to say that she can wear it when she throws it onto a nearby ottoman. Not onto the floor thankfully. No omega has ever worn his sweatshirt before. Hoseok tries not to let the rejection of his scent sting.

She looks at the lipstick on Hoseok, there’s a bit on his lip. “Come here.” She asks, parting her legs.

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

When Hobi wakes it's because the pack is moving around the room, bickering, and struggling to be quiet, bickering a little.

Their low hum drum voices as they talk about “Jungkookie? where did you put my mittens?” and ”I sort of love that you still wear mittens, babe.” Yoongi’s deep rumble, “Did Jimin buy those for you too?” All teasing and understanding. Because if anyone knows how Tae likes to be teased, Yoongi does.

Tae’s fond little croon is so melodic it makes Hobi sigh, ears straining to hear more of it. “Yes, he did. Got pup matching ones too.”

Pup. that’s you. Curled in the center of the nest under Hobi's elbows. dozing but unable to lift your head from where it's pillowed. You’re sure that Yoongi knows you’re kind of awake or at least listening in because Yoongi knows everything.

You’re sure that as he looks down at you and Hobi tangled together, he’s doing it with a smirk. You don’t need to open your eyes and double-check.

The temperature of the nest is balmy, overly warm in the way that it gets when it’s cold outside and the nesting is hitting so particularly good that Hobi won’t even think of moving. (The way it feels when you come out of the cold and into the waiting arms of someone you love) Hobi nuzzles into the warmth in front of him.

A small storm brews outside. The snow has been falling since midday. Just a little here and there. But Tae loves how it looks with all the Christmas lights. There aren’t quite enough up yet but the holiday season is close.

But the snow won't last, soon it won’t be falling at all. It will all melt off by tonight, the afternoon is supposed to be sunny. Can sun showers happen with snow?

"Do you think we could walk all the way to the gym, it's not all that far! only like 10 miles. We could run it in like an hour!"

He listens to the others talk. The sound of Yoongi’s voice, gravely and vaguely upset. “Jungkook, you’re not really thinking about going to work out right now- You’ve barely been home for like 5 hours. I just said we could go do something not run 10 fucking miles.”

Jungkook always gets this way; when the dizziness of the seizures turns to restlessness and he's honestly fine but the others can't resist trying to baby him. Too awake to sleep anymore. He sounds grumpy, whiney, and pouty even though Hobi's eyes aren't open to see him turn his puppy eyes on Yoongi. “I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t hyung- I’m gonna go crazy.”

There’s the faint sound of lips meeting and smacking. Kisses that are probably meant to soothe Jungkook. “How about we compromise pup.”

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

You shift a little and Hoseok opens his eyes. You're mostly still asleep just settling, making yourself more comfortable with the new space no longer corralled by arms and bodies.

Hobi’s mouth is dry when he watches you shift onto your stomach your face half-smushed into the cushions, scenting them a little in your sleep. The homey scent fizzle in Hoseok’s bones tells him that you've scented him too. Being surrounded by the pack's scent like this makes Hobi’s skin feel like pop rocks. Like his bones are mentos and coca cola. All sensitive and tingly.

He’s cuddled with you before- through your nightmares and last night at the hospital of course- but it’s never been just the two of you in a nest. He’s never been the only alpha here, charged with guarding the pillows and blankets and you curled soft in the center.

Hobi tentatively puts an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. The house still hasn't totally warmed up yet and you'd be cold without some body heat. He does it slowly, seeing if you’ll wake.

There is a hand in his hair, petting softly, and he snatches his arm from around your waist the second Hoseok realizes he's being watched. Yoongi leans over the edge of the couch-turned-nest, smirking a little. The door shuts behind Tae and Jungkook with a puff of cold air, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

He would look intimidating if his beanie didn't have cat ears.

The pads of Yoongi's fingers rub soothing circles under Hobi's jaw and his lips part unintentionally. “Be good yeah?” he says, whisper soft. Hoseok just nods, too sleepy to verbally respond.

They haven’t talked much about Hobi’s confession; that night on the beach what feels like ages ago. But everytime he thinks of it Hobi still tastes salt on his tongue and your name on his lips.

Yoongi’s wearing the same look now that he did then; half hopeful and half worried. But if there was anyone that would object on your behalf, if Hobi wasn't allowed this closeness with you, Yoongi would tell him.

Yoongi doesn't say that you and him aren't ready for cuddling like this. Yoongi doesn't say that Hoseok should give you space or not cradle you to his chest like you are something as fragile and necessary and as doomed as his beating heart. Trembling and stuttering with the force of sweet expectations and hopes made hollow with satisfaction.

Yoongi does not realize that Hoseok's heart has not had a steady beat since he woke up holding you.

Yoongi doesn't say anything. Yoongi just drags a single knuckle down his cheek and leaves. Heading out after Tae and Jungkook who are, judging from the hallow sound of snow hitting the windows- are having a snowball fight.

“If one of those hits me I’m not holding anyone’s hand for the whole walk-“

The door keeps out the sound of Tae's sweet giggles and Jungkook’s pouted, "just one hyung- I won't hit your face-"

And the two of you are alone. Wrapped up warm, quiet and hushed, just the two of you.

Well, except for Noodle.

The meticulously kept edge of the nest is all fluffed, Noodle makes sure of it. Small paws depressing the blanket as he kneads it and then settles on the edge. His purr is audible from here as he blinks slowly from the bottom of the couch turned nest. Jin wrangled him for a brushing yesterday morning and his coat still looks extra fluffy and kempt.

Unwatched and unjudged, Hobi tentatively reaches to cradle your ribs again. Thumb smoothing down the center of your stomach, a little close to your belly button. You’ve got a little hair there. Hobi’s fingers like the feel of it. Not rough but not silky.

Your skin feels like champagne bubbles and sparklers, everywhere he touches your skin goes fizzy. Hobi looks down at you, breath hitching, and thinks Is it really so horrible to want this? Why am I so afraid of this?

You wiggle a little closer in your sleep and Hobi’s arm goes vicelike.

Noodle's purr goes a little louder.

Hobi doesn’t like to think about his last pack ever, but he recognizes that hollow ache and tug that says memories aren’t too far behind. And it threatens to swallow him until he looks down at you. The house is quiet but your eyebrows are puffed up like something very shocking is happening in your dreams. He doesn't want to think about them right now.

He drags his nose across your hairline; scenting you. Tasting your emotions on his tongue. Comfort. Ease. Arousal-sweet. Not all that abnormal. Not nightmares then. He is always on the lookout for them. After Jungkook and the hospital, he sort of thought they might come back.

Hoseok counts his stars and snowflakes, and rests his forehead against the nape of your neck.

Over the next hour, you’re restless. Moving, worming your way closer to him as he goes in and out of sleep. You make a soft noise and he shushes you. a growl that says to stay put and alpha's here.

You blink slowly up at him. Hobi pulls back, taking his arm from around your waist, feeling like he’s just stolen candy from a jar on the counter that’s for him anyway. You stretch and don't comment on it, yawning.

Noodle hops closer, squirming between the two of you and stepping over your shoulders. Meowing right in Hoseok’s face. “Alright alright, I’ll feed you again.”

You snuggle into the warm hallow he left on the couch when he detangles himself, hand under your cheek watching him as he stumbles out of the nest. Noodle follows tail held high. It's truly horrible. Leaving the nest when every bit of Hobi's body wants him to stay in the warmth. The house is always so slow to warm up.

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

“Quick,” you say, face above the edge of the cover. Hoseok rushes, doling out a single scoop of dry food and then running back to you. Hobi wastes precious seconds to grab his headphones from the kitchen table before collapsing onto the couch where you hold the blanket up, sealing the warmth and him back inside. The headphones tangle between the two of you and he falls with a giggle. Disappearing among the white blanket. He sinks thankfully into the warmth, into the safety that the nest offers. Into you.

Your warm arms wrap around his shoulders and his body shivers delightfully in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. Your jaw pops when you yawn and then he yawns too, a breath later. You laugh too and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

It really is, the kind of cozy that only comes along a few times a year. A quiet to your bones that says there is nothing to do now but rest. The coldness that turns your bodies into these molten-loving things. Your warmth and Hoseok’s warmth. One warmth.

He breathes, deep and heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to get up yet.” The house is still quiet. Nothing but Noodles happy munching sounds and the faint scratch of big snowflakes hitting the windows.

Hobi’s heart beats frantic against yours and you sigh. “Wanna listen to some music?” He offers. Hobi always loves a backtrack, a little compliment for the exposition.

You nod, a little sleepy, but Hobi has a playlist for that. He’s got a playlist for everything including ’sleepy cozy pup time’. The headphones take a second to locate, lost in the nest. But when he does you share them. One earphone a piece, the sound turned low so you can still talk.

Hobi puts on a love song, and it makes you smell all sweet. Stretched out with your hair tangling because you’ve left it unbound, the split ends prodding at Hobi’s cheeks. He doesn’t really listen to the song, just watches you. Eyes closed humming softly.

Your scent sours and Hoseok's hand goes tight on your wrist. You tell him what's bothering you without him even having to ask.

“I saw this line the other day that didn't like." You look at the ceiling, not at him. "it said a love song is really good if you can’t tell whether they’re talking about another person or if they’re talking about god.”

You think about Jimin and Tae. You've been thinking about it since Tae talked about their childhood earlier and the bloody cross between the two of them. If holiness does exist, it’s in Tae. If there is anything like religion for you or Jimin, it's love. God has nothing to do with it. God's not the person who makes love songs sound good.

Hobi turns on his side, leaning on his elbow. “I’m not sure Jimin would agree with that either.”

You turn in time to see Hobi’s smile. It catches the sunlight, lingering right on his cheek. An octagonal shaft of sunlight that has traveled millions of miles to get there could not have found a more beautiful place to fall. He huffs a quiet laugh again, and you swear you might hear the highest note of a piano somewhere.

You wonder when he became so musical to you, maybe it’s just because he’s the person who made you love music so much.

(You can tell a love song is good, when it makes you think of Hobi).

“You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?” You rest your lips against his shoulder and Hobi’s body doesn’t move an inch. They’re soft where they lie not a kiss but not not a kiss either. You can rest your lips against his skin, you can rest your whole body and Hoseok wouldn't move an inch.

“Always worried, got to worry about Minnie. Always worried about everyone.” You mumble. Eyes closing.

The light comes through the windows all honey yellow, turning the bookshelves that Yoongi made gold instead of white. Turns the tops of Hobi’s hair a little red too, the brown has endless depths in the sunlight all burnt umber and Sienna where the sun hits, yellow ocher at the tips. The sunlight savors falling on Hobi, down to the last inch.

You try to keep your eyes open, struggling, and Hobi sets a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair lightly.

"Go back to sleep pup."

You hum, already half there. He pulls you a little on top of him, holding you with a firmness usually reserved for too-large packages and the tenderness reserved for very fragile very precious things. It makes your whole body feel tingly at the edges.

“Thanks for not leaving the nest when everyone else did,” you think he might be asleep for how long it takes him to answer. But everything in the last 24 hours has left you feeling like you don’t want to be alone, that you can’t be left by yourself. He breathes up and it presses against your stomach.

“Didn’t want to go with the others- just wanted to stay here in the nest with you.” nesting is a biological need for alphas as much as it is for omegas, Hobi hasn't felt so relaxed in ages.

He murmurs, hand still skimming through your hair. His thumb rolling against the nape of your neck and you shiver hard into the touch, sinking further into him. “Is that okay?”

Your hand finds a spot under his arm and you use it to tug yourself closer, getting your forehead against his shoulder, the headphones slipping from your ear.

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

Hobi tucks your hair behind your ear and puts the headphones back in.

The next time you wake it’s because Noodle is licking at your forehead, grooming you, and you hear the shutter sound of Hobi’s camera, his small giggle. You swat at noodles face and he bats at you a little before settling on the small of your back, fighting Hobi for necessary real-estate and howling when he gets pushed off.

“Nu, be quiet,” Hobi’s hushed words are answered with an equally quiet meow that sends you straight off to dreamland again.

You don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours or minutes the next time you wake. You just know that Hobi smells good, smells musky sweet caramel all drippy and heady, that you've got your nose pressed up against his scent gland. All surrounded by it. Surrounded by him.

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

You’re a little too close. Cuddling with Hobi in a way that you might with Yoongi- with Namjoon or Jungkook. All warm snug hot. Bodies and dreams tangled so thoroughly that it's hard to tell where dreamy wants begin and fragile delights end.

You’re warm at your front from Hobi and warm on your back from the sunshine streaming through the window. Warm all the way through. Until he moves his hand and you realize that’s from him too. His fingers splayed over your spine.

You think you can be forgiven for confusing them. Hoseok and sunlight are one and the same.

The apex of your thigh is pressed tight to his hip just where his thigh starts. Your leg hitched over his hip and tight to it. The fabric of his sweatpants and the fabric of your pajama shorts are all bunched up from your movements. Your knee bent at a comfortable angle. His scent is heady in your nose, pressed to the low tugged collar of his shirt just over his heart.

As close as you can be but still not enough.

You don't even realize your hips are moving, sleepily grinding against his thigh until it's too late.

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

You stop mid-movement, thoughts sloshing sleepy. And oh, you were moving, weren’t you? There is a dampness between your thighs and the scent of slick and arousal sharp in the air. That comfortable pleasure hiccup in your throat that says you want to cum and can. could like this.

You jerk back from the warmth in front of you, startled into wakefulness as you realize exactly you were just doing.

Oh no- you didn’t mean- Hobi. Alpha, warm and comfortable at your front.

You start to back up, still half asleep, but terror and embarrassment flood you like the ocean floods the sea rocks at high tide.

Hobi groans, a deep near growl sound, and moves before you can back up even an inch. he was just as asleep as you just were until you pulled away. His sleepy brain still clings to you.

His hands slip lower, holding you tight against his front. His sleepy alpha brain is malfunctioning. Sweet omega needs to stay close. The source of his warmth and the friction against his front cannot slip away.

His hands are on your ass and your pussy is pressed flushed to his hip, and Hobi-

Hobi is your best friend, Hobi is your packmate and Hobi has to be unaware of what he’s doing. You’re sure of it. You try to pull away again from him fighting back more embarrassment than you've ever felt in your entire life, hands pressed to his chest.

But He pulls you right back to him.

Right into a unmistakable hardness poking at your stomach. Hard and warm. Right where you were grinding in your sleep.

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

Instincts are incredibly hard to describe. The way they hook into your consciousness and separate reason from action and want from logic. The part of you that’s in control, that recognizes that you and Hobi shouldn’t be this close like this if it’s not talked about, is so distant.

A needy sound echoes that might be from you, that is from you, as Hobi’s hands slide up your hips and under his sweatshirt. Cold hands on your warm hips and oh-

Hobi’s eyes are cracked open, looking down at you, watching you with pink cheeks. Tongue darting out to lick at his lip. “S’okey you just-" his eyes flutter closed again; breath warm against your face. "You take what you need.”

It’s only a testament to the pack's care that you associate these things with each other. Safety and coziness are just so close to pleasure and comfort. Your sleepy body associates this kind of nesting with sex. it's only natural that you'd get a little needy while inside of it.

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

Before either of you can say if you really should, if this is really a good thing to do without talking about it first. Hobi’s hands are on your waist, pulling you back snug, his hard thigh between your legs.

If you were more awake, you’d think better of it, you’d think so much but there is only that sweet pressure. The drag, the wetness, the soft little huffs of breath that he shushes when he lets you take what you need. Helps you with his hands on your hips and guides you back into rocking against his thigh.

You feel it all the way down to your toes when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass then back up again, underneath the hem of your shorts and then your sweatshirt- his too (all of you his). Rucked up to your ribs.

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

This must not be real. This has to be a dream. Because Hobi doesn't want to touch you like this, Hobi doesn't groan and twitch against your stomach or guide the movement of your hips with his hands into a slow grind that has you gasping against his jaw. Hobi doesn’t leave the seat of your pajama bottoms soaked with slick. Hole clenching around nothing already. Utterly boneless where you lie against his front.

There is one single moment where you look at each other, one single moment where you try to keep from going any farther. Even though you want it, even though he wants it too. If Namjoon and Jin have taught you anything they've taught you caution.

Hoseok can smell the others lingering on your skin, the spot on the top of your head where Yoongi rested his cheek. He leans down, brushing his lips over it. It’s such a tender gesture and it breaks the flood and he's tugging you up, tugging you even closer, desperation coloring his voice all sweet.

“Fuck- please.” His forehead rests against yours, “fuck I just need-“

You're not sure who moves first, who starts the kiss only that once you’re kissing him it’s hard to stop. One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.

Teeth clanging against each other, harsh as they nip. Kissing so good that when you pull apart for breath you're both gasping and it has nothing to do with needing air.

Hobi has such nice lips it’s no wonder that they’re heart-shaped. Made for kissing, made for the needy needy licking against the seam of his lips. He shifts turning you on your side, surging up to kiss you properly and put his weight behind it. cradling your head with one hand and your side with the other. You’re so pliant, so willing to let him kiss and take. You want him to take everything. arms around his neck.

He breaks apart, forehead resting against yours, heart beating so quick that he can feel it in his palms. Pupiles blown when he blinks. “If you take what you need, and I take what I need- Can we-“

Your hands thread hard in his hair. Tugging him back to your lips. Closer and closer. “Fuck Yes- please-“

You don’t know where the wanting comes from, why it’s raging through you like a fire. His lips move against yours frantic, you bite his lip and he jerks. Hovering over you with your back against the nest, all tingly and fizzy. Your bones feel like champagne popping, like shooting stars burning out.

Hobi’s hands shake when they touch your hips, just like yours do when you mirror him, your touches shy but just as hungry, tugging up his shirt, fingertips and nails pressing bluntly to his happy trail of fine dark hair. You can feel the way his cock jumps against your stomach and thigh when you scratch gently.

You pull back a little and sit up and it’s sacred; the way that he panics, scrambling to hold onto you. You're A little bit shy when you take off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath. hair fluffing when you get it free from the cotton.

Your bare skin and the cold room. You get goosebumps on your arms almost instantly when they cross over your bare chest. Hobi’s breath stutters in his chest, like roman candles flare and settle. Hobi takes his sweatshirt from you and sets it aside in his haste to hold you again.

He starts to tugs his pants down, getting tangled because he won't even pull back an inch from you. You kiss his throat, again and again making up for lost time. Sucking a mark there. His hands fumble with the waistband of his tied tight grey sweatpants. finding the loops and then freeze when he feels wetness. Pulling back and looking down just to make sure that that is what he thinks it is. you stop your kissing and look too.

There is a wet spot, darkening the grey material. Your slick from your grinding, the spot where you got so worked up and felt so good that you couldn't even help it. He pulls back so that the light can kiss it but yeah that's definitely from you. Evidence of how much you want this. Evidence of how much you want him.

Hoseok thinks you might have actually set his body on fire. Is about ready to start checking your fingers for matches.

You blush so hot that you think you might be burning in embarrassment. Hands between your legs, clutching at the material of the nest, so embarrassed you can't watch as Hoseok looks down at it and then up at you.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t help it- I'm always-“

Hobi’s hands smooth over the wet patch, splaying up to cradle his cock where you’ve left your mark. And he looks at you, jaw rolling and eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

It’s hasty how you both move to take his pants off, and he kicks them to some forgotten corner of the nest, his boxers pulled off too, and then clings to you. You cling to each other. Kissing again. Hands knotting through his hair and tugging.

You glance down and oh- Hobi has such a pretty cock. the prettiest in the pack maybe (don't tell Tae), Flushed at the tip, hair neatly trimmed and curving up.

Your bare thighs press to his adds a whole new level to this, the skin there is sensitive and unknown. Lying thigh to thigh somehow feels more intimate than chest to chest as you lie the way lovers do, your leg, his, then yours again.

You’re damp between your legs when he touches, hands shaking. He doesn't bother to take off your shorts just tugs the soaked bit of fabric to the side. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a pussy but he knows enough to do it gently. Petting over your folds like he’s teasing a flower to bloom and opening a rose for a bouquet.

“Please” you gasp, hand vicelike around his wrist. Kissing his frantic pulse again. Hot lips and a cold nose drag down his throat. You hiccup as the pads of his fingers find your clit, shaking against him. "Please-"

But you don’t need to ask, you don’t need to beg. Whatever you need Hobi will give it to you. Your hands scratch as his back when he presses close, snaking underneath his sweatshirt. Breath heavy.

He kisses your neck and bites it when his length brushes the wetness between your thighs. Hot and honey slick. his hips press to your hips, harsh lines of his thighs pointing low that you like. There is so much about Hobi that you like; the way that he kisses, the way that he touches. oh- it’s better than you imagined.

His knuckles are glossy with your slick when he curls them against the nest, holding himself up.

Hobi bends down to skim a kiss across your neck, your collarbones, your sternum.

You laugh, your giggle high and bright. He has to pull back, not upset at all but wanting to laugh too, giggling too. “Why are you?”

Your smile means everything to him. “Your hair tickles.” It is kind of fluffy, kind of pulled everywhere from your kissing and you run your fingers through it, scratching a little around the nape of his neck, and Hobi is done playing.

He pulls back, already dripping a bit of precum, silvery and pearl like at the head of his cock, standing against his stomach. a little hidden because he's still wearing his sweatshirt. Checking because he can’t not check.

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

“Daisy, please-“ Oh, how that pet name unhinges him.

He won't make you wait another second for it, hands shaking as he holds your hip. Shushing your needy whimpers with a soothing alpha rumble as he guides his cock close. Giving you what you both need.

Hoseok is not as big as Namjoon or Tae or Jimin, but he’s properly thick. Not the kind of thickness that knocks the breath out of you but the kind that fits just right. Not enough to make you ache or hurt even a little. It doesn’t hurt at all when he eases in slowly.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

That might be because of how soaked you are; dripping messy underneath the warm humidity of the blanket. The visual of your glossy pussy robbed from him but unimportant as Hobi stares at your face, resting his head against your forehead. Watching your eyes dilate and eyelashes flutter. “There we go- fuck-”

It’s not worth pulling back to separate how close you are. How good it feels to press his chest to your chest, not even a single inch separating you. His kisses go gentle and messy, moving against yours in a gentle rhythm just like his hips after he gives you a second to grow used to it. Rocking just a little.

Hoseok has heard the others talk about your pussy, those moments that he tried to block out at the beginning and then started to file away once loving you got more real. But for everything he's heard from his packmates, nothing compares to the reality.

The closeness. The way your hips fit. The hot- too much- clench around him.

He understands a little maybe, fully buried in you for the first time, why they talk about it so much. Why Jungkook had slipped it into dirty talk a few times with Namjoon and why it had made him growl and cum so quick. Why Tae had teased Yoongi for hogging you.

Your pussy feels like an inside joke in all the best ways, the kind of inside jokes that always have you feeling both known and loved. You can’t remember what you used to laugh about when you were a teenager and if asked Hoseok would fail to describe why sex with you feels so full. Why it feels like highlights and golden ages, the golden hour drenching you. It’s not sex for pleasure’s sake and it's not sex for closeness's sake either- although that’s part of it.

It’s not sex at all, it's making love. With Hobi, it’s making love from the beginning.

It's not instincts and mating bond urges. It’s not one submissive giving to a dominant. It’s not about protection and safety even though that's there or because you're an omega and he's an alpha. Because he's a man and you're a woman.

It's just love, that's it.

And it doesn’t hurt at all. For either of you.

The eye contact is never ending, his warm and fucked out the more he rocks. Gentle at first and building up frantic. Hobi doesn’t fuck like the rest of the pack does either; he doesn’t speak, letting out these quiet heavy breaths and shushing your squeaks with soothing alpha grumbles. His thumb wiping away the few overwhelmed tears that slip out and a smile swallowing your hiccuping breaths.

"Fuck” he breathes, moving his hips a little faster. His stomach presses to yours damp and tacky with sweat. Hoseok’s doesn't fuck in and out all the way, hardly moving away from you at all. Just rocking in deep.

Hobi doesn’t stop hitting every spot, comfortable with these unending rocks of his hips, maddening in the way that he never stops filling you. Never pulls out even half way.

Your hands weakly clench in the blankets of the nest as he twitches right there. That sensitive spot inside of you that feels like courting ecstasy when he nudges it. It’s the same spot that Yoongi likes to tease at, the spot that only his long fingers can reach properly and Tae’s too when she’s really trying. Ghosting over it and petting at it until you’re mad with pleasure.

But Hobi doesn’t tease, Hobi just gives. rubbing against it again and again with every gentle roll of his hips.

you put your hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpers when he pulls back, sitting up just a little. Holding your waist and forcing your body further down on his cock, nudging it as deep as it can go and you sob.

Hobi grins, a little cocky, a little pleased that despite his size compared to the others you're still equally as wrecked.

“Right there yeah?” he teases, and then rocks against it again. thumbs pressing against your stomach where he cradles you. waist so tiny that they almost meet when he holds you.

Your cheeks are hot, and you have to turn and whimper into the pillow. he lets you shift so that you're belly down in the nest and he's behind you glued to your backside. lying his weight down behind you like a blanket. pressing you into the nest where you'll stay like a good pup.

Hoseok instincts are absolutely purring. omega, getting bred in such a pretty nest. Good warm soft omega.

Your hand laces with the blanket, needing something to hold onto and he kisses the back of your neck, treading your hands together as he keeps going. This new position lets him rock in even deeper, putting his weight behind it.

“If you keep going, I’m not gonna be able to-”

His breath ghosts your ear, lips dragging down the column of your throat to nip and suck gently at your scent gland, marking you there. his hand presses, holding you to the bed as he rocks harder. His barely formed knot already inside and growing, getting you closer and closer as it thickens. Keeping him right there at the spot and you on the edge. You're so wet it's making noises, soaking and dripping down his cock.

He kisses your mating mark, nipping at it, and you’re gone.

You cum, a wet gush around his knot and a broken whimper. a growl in his throat sounds loud in the empty house. It sounds like made mate happy, made omega cum for me. Hoseok's Alpha is absolutely preening watching your Legs shake, the nape of your neck sweaty, body slack and head tilting to bear your neck. both of your bodies messy from it, filthy and blushing with love.

Hobi’s not far behind, rocking another time, a third, a quiet satisfied breath into the back of your neck before his knot pops locking you together as he cums so gently. No growls or gasps, just hot spurts that fill and satisfy you. Knot popping and Locking you so close you can feel his cock pulse. So close you can feel the same heartbeat on his lips when kisses you, hurried kisses pressed to the nape of your neck that quickly go slack with sleep.

Your hand settles across your stomach, and oh- you realize why hobi wasn't bothered by how wet he got you earlier. He just keeps cuming, so much that it's leaking a little around his knot. You're not sure that Jimin or Tae or Yoongi cum this much, Namjoon definitely does- but thats kinda proportional.

he just keeps going, heat flooding you. Maybe he's only cumming so much because it's the first time, and he needs to claim you from the inside out. you're a little too dizzy to figure it out.

You feel like you might pass out. You don't know if it's squirt or cum or just sweat when he lies himself over you. cuddling closer despite the mess. Teeth at your bared throat, Sucking softly, Soothing.

instincts are kind of embarrassing at best, irrationally hot at worse. you squirm a little closer so that his knot goes deeper.

The sunlight spills across your cuddled forms, still underneath the big thick blanket. He doesn’t pull out, the knot keeping him snug tight. His hand is on your cheek, rubbing up and down your jaw. He pulls the blanket up around you. And neither of you says a word as your rapid breathing calms.

You’re not sure who falls back asleep first. Only that he wraps his arm around you and pulls you back on top of his chest, cuddled there. Knot warm and safe inside of you.

knotted together like this, you're finally finally close enough.

~-~

When Hobi wakes you’re watching him and his dick is out. Wet and slick and cold.

That would certainly cause him to be alarmed if it wasn’t for your expression; a little pale. Hands between your legs and looking at the doorway.

You just really don't want to drip cum onto the couch, like- obviously. Hobi didn't hurt you. But the brief terror at waking up uncuddled and so suddenly douses Hobi like a bucket of cold water.

The cold might be the actual reason for his sudden wakefulness. The wintry air in the room is jarring because the house is finally heating up. (as much to do with the heating system doing its job as it is with your activities earlier that turned the windows all hazy with condensation).

It's like someone had just come in and then abruptly left again. Your cheeks are pink, and there is a cloth on the side of the couch, folded and warm. You didn't get it for yourself.

“Don’t freak out, but Yoongi and the others walked in while you were asleep.”

You’re kind of glad that he wasn’t awake to see your mate barely contain his screech, jumping up and down with Jungkook in the entryway. Namjoon’s subtly grinning expression when he took in your appearance and paused in the cold doorway breathing in deeply. Tae wrapped around one arm; their walk interrupted by his return from surgery.

He groans, barely awake enough to think about the visual that Yoongi and the others were treated to. The consequences are better than a shot of expresso at wakeing him up.

But really, was there ever a possibility that the others wouldn’t find out about this? Does Hoseok even want them not to know?

He's too tired, too think about this logically.

Hoseok wonders why he didn’t wake to you holding him. He’s seen you hold the others, hold Namjoon in the morning when you smell like him. The way you wake slowly and run your fingers through their hair. The other alphas have a habit of cuddling up to rest their head against your chest. Hobi remembers that day by the beach when you pet his hair, he wants you to do that now.

But he can't fucking ask. Asking you to cuddle him would be fucking embarrassing.

“Shit." He shakes off his neediness and easily locates his boxers in the mess of the nest because they're bright red. Surreptitiously tucking his now soft and deflated knot back inside. You look away, letting him have that moment of privacy without comment. Your arms curl around your chest, you’re still nude from the waist up. thighs clenched togeather.

“Yeah uhm, they went back out to like- give us some space.”

"Did they say anything?"

You look away, wiggling over to the edge of the nest. "No. But they looked like they wanted to say a whole lot.”

You definitely don’t say that you heard their scuffle, Namjoon and Tae using their alpha privileges to wrangle an overly excited Yoongi and Jungkook. or that both of them had come back inside, both with pink cheeks smelling sweet at the sight of Hobi’s face pressed to your neck and the fresh hickeys at your throat.

(Hobi’s hickeys are always so small and cute. Tae can’t wait to take a picture and save it, for memory's sake. She’s half tempted to take out her phone and snap a picture of the two of you now.)

Your hiss of “Don’t say anything, I swear to fucking god if you wake him-" cured her of any bad ideas and had Namjoon grinning, his dimples showing.

Yoongi’s finger pressed to his lips in the doorway. Smiling wide and showing his gums. Omegas do get awfully protective over alphas in their nests. Especially post-knotting.

You’re honestly a little surprised that their muted shouting hadn’t woken Hobi. The closed door had kept out the cold but not the sound of them discussing on the porch; mostly Tae's insistence that they needed to get out of the house for lunch instead of heading back inside.

“But what if they need aftercare?”

"We shouldn’t leave them alone and unprotected.” (Classic Joonie).

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

Yoongi snorts, “Gross Jk- I’m pretty sure the last thing they want is you licking up Hobi’s cum.”

“But he always likes it when it’s Jinnie-" that had your face and body heating (although that could just be Hobi- a literal furnace that he is wrapped around you).

Now his warmth is on the other side of the nest yet it feels impossibly farther away. As you both stew in silence under the weight of what you’ve done, what you just did.

Everything feels quiet and scary as you put yourselves back together in silence. You use the wet washcloth to keep yourself from dripping all over the couch while he looks for his pants in the mess of blanekts that smell like sex.

Thoughts like shit shit shit and what have you done ping-ponging back and forth across his brain. Mind bouncing between unlikely personal regrets and likely female rejection (of which he is only too familiar with).

Hobi doesn't like feeling rejected, it always brings up bad memories. He didn't wake up to you holding him. Is that a rejection or is his brain just making it up? People always hold each other after sex. Don't they?

You reach for his sweatshirt but before you can touch it a growl bursts forth from his throat and you freeze.

Hoseok scrubs a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the memories fitfully. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that he woke up and you weren’t wrapped around him. He's going to have to cuddle you himself if he wants it right now.

This first time with you reminds him of other first time's that didn’t end well. He's sorry for it the second it slips past his lips.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just- my fucking instincts feel like they're on fire."

“So can I…?” you trail off. Your skin has goosebumps again. And Hoseok doesn’t know if it’s the casual nakedness that has him feeling so unmoored. A blush trailing its way up the back of his neck even though it shouldn’t be weird. He saw you shirtless every other hour during Namjoon’s rut for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, just wear it- please wear it.” He can’t take back his growl, but he can meditate by watching you pick it up and hug it to your chest. Looking at him for a second as if to check that it’s still alright and he’s not going to snap at you again.

There is a hickey on your shoulder, the spot where it meets your arm. Hobi doesn’t know if it’s from him or someone else. It's a little too red to not be new. You don’t look uncomfortable being nude in front of him.

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

You look at him and then pull it over your head. His cheeks still heating stubbornly as your chest moves a little, jiggling.

Why do girls have to just- girl all the time- it's honestly a little unfair how much hobi blushed.

He watches you, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers as you stand up pulling the sweatshirt down your hips. He stares at you until you ask a little flustered by hiding it, “What?”

He tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, slowly, carefully, leaning forward as he tugs on one of the strings with his teeth. His hands go to your waist pulling you close gently, half sure of himself and half afraid. Hoseok is always somehow half afraid. Is this allowed? Is this wanted?

He rests his head against your stomach, loosely twining his arms around your waist to pull you closer, still loose enough that you can step away if you want. All of this can stop if you don’t want it. He hopes you know that.

Hoseok looks down at your feet, not at your face. “I love it when you wear my clothes. I really don't know where that came from.”

“Careful,” you say, a grin in your voice. Your tone light because you don't want him to smell so sour again. “I’m gonna go for your pants next.”

You snatch his from the floor and dart away. Nothing excites an alpha’s instincts like a chase, and Hobi feels the fire light down his spine. His movements are a hunt-heavy blur. Brain honed in on you.

He catches you by the counter, your giggle echoing off the high ceilings. His blood heating again as he drags you by your hips and flops down into one of the bar stools, sitting you on top of him with a growl.

His hands grip hard around your waist, determined until he’s shy. Letting you go softly, “Sorry I just-”

“Instincts still? Don't worry I get it.” You give him his pants and sit up off his lap so that he can put them on. And now is not the time to get another boner Hobi- but it’s kind of hard not to when you smell so bred, so wholly satisfied.

Hobi did that. Hobi's the one who made you look like this drowning in the afterglow.

Your own instincts are telling you that you want to take the blankets from the couch and drag them upstairs, and tuck them in around the scents of the others. So that they can all see and smell how good you made your alpha feel.

Hoseok’s pleasure leaves an undercurrent to the air that’s intoxicating. Half sugar-sweet and musky alpha. Your body hums with it as he steps up close behind you, close enough you can feel his warmth and not his body, nose skimming the bruise he left close to your mating mark. Letting out a tired sigh.

You did just work off a lot of energy, regardless of the half-nappy half-cuddle fucking that just was; It's also left you fucking hungry.

As much as the kitchen has been a place of anxiety for you it really isn’t with Hobi there. There is still that tape line on the floor that guards you off from the stove, sink, and the fridge. Hobi steps out from behind you and goes to the fridge, getting out some of the prepped fruit that Yoongi almost always keeps on hand.

But you keep looking at the kitchen, the pans hanging above the sink, your mixer sitting dusty in the corner. The hanging mugs. Everything.

He brings it to you, setting it down in front of where you sit. instincts making his eyes fever bright. He watches a little too intently as you lift a raspberry to your mouth. Something about watching you eat cools his instincts, making him release a taught breath.

He watches as you lift another piece, a blackberry to your lips and bite down. Almost purring, too afraid of what might slip out if he speaks. He half wants to do it himself and feed you from his fingertips. But that’s a little too embarrassing to consider.

A minute later, after you’ve eaten half a dozen more pieces, he reaches past you, about to get a piece of peach. He doesn't think anything of it, but when he reaches past your face- you flinch.

It happens so quick that he almost doesn’t even catch it. One second your cheek is turned straight and the next your eyes are darting from him to the bowl. Scent souring with fear and memories from Geumjae.

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

You don’t look at him with fear, you just look at him with a strange sort of sadness in your eyes. Sorry. Like you’re sorry for being scared. hoseok's hand goes tight on the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Hobi sits down. Holds your hands in his, and waits for a second before he speaks. makes his words quiet and gentle because anger at someone dead and gone has no place here.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You have nice hands, warm where they press into his. And he cradles them, your knuckles flexing vaguely in his grasp, gentle but commanding.

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

You smile at him sadly. Hobi’s chest is tight with it. He needs you to know how much he means those words. How much he needs to mean them. But you both know how hard it is to promise that.

"No. I mean I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.” He repeats. You smile at him sadly again. And he knows his brief anger earlier when you touched his sweatshirt- usually such a normal thing for you- didn't escape you at all. But grief and mourning and memory always finds you at the worst times; after first times and on sunny winter afternoons.

The two of you are a mess, bodies teeming with the memories of failed loves, lost and broken. But you can ignore your triggers; such innocuous things as you wearing his sweatshirt and him reaching past your face. You can ignore your memories; the wretched and rotten ones, just for today.

You let the heavy moment pass and look at the other side of the kitchen. Hobi’s chest feels tight with something. Something that he needs to say but can’t just yet. You can only tell someone you love them for the first time once. You don’t get a second chance.

Hobi just wants to get it right.

You’re looking at the kitchen that Yoongi made for you, holding his hand still. using the other to feed yourself more fruit.

(Is there anything more intimate than holding hands with someone? It feels like more than the pads and lines of his fingers are pressed to yours. soul to soul and palm to palm. The future is written out right there but you ignore it. Love line, health line, fate. But the two of you are dedicated to writing your own end. Your love line is exactly the same length as his, not a millimeter longer).

Hoseok’s chest is still all tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t made anything in months.” You sigh, sad. “I want to. I used to love baking, I used to-” you break off, sorrow making you quiet.

Hobi’s eyes are fixed on your shoulder. There are freckles there. He’s not sure why he’s never noticed them before or that you’ve got them dotting your back.

Hobi swallows past something in his throat. Pushing you gently from your chair until you're standing next to him. Cupping your waist because now that he's started touching you it's hard to stop. Now that he knows he’s allowed to touch you so casually, so affectionately, he going to keep doing it.

“Go. I’ll watch you, make sure you stay safe.” Because that’s the rule, isn’t it? Not that you can’t be in the kitchen at all, just that you need someone there to keep you safe.

The words feel tight in his throat, not easily said. I love you. He thinks as he watches you move to the mixer with a small but pretty smile that looks like daisies have taken root on your skin, everything sweet and flowering.

I love you. He thinks as he watches you get your cookbook from behind the mixer. I love you he thinks when he watches you place a mug from that morning in the sink. I love you he thinks as you get the sugar, the vanilla, the salt. He has to get up and get the flour for you, unwilling to have your arms strain underneath the heavy container, doting on you just because he can.

Just because he wants to, just because he loves you.

The shadow of what’s left on the bag hits his dark clothes like a ghostly outline when he holds it. The flour is a bit like you; everywhere he touches it leaves an impression. The rainbows from his suncatcher you put in the kitchen shift with the angle of the sunlight, winking out one by one as dusk falls.

He sits at the kitchen island and watches as you hum and flick through your recipe book. Golden hour fades to orange and pink the same way that roses fade.

He’s not sure why he blurts it out, why he asks, “What’s your favorite?”

You look up from your cookbook, everything is set out but still, the recipe is undecided. “What?”

Hobi can not look at you for this, instead looks at the kitchen island and the old butcher block countertop. Fingers toying along the edge where a knife left a gash.

“You always make everyone else’s favorites; Namjoon’s honey cakes, coffee-flavored things for Jin, the vegan stuff for Jungkook you know- but-” his eyes flick up to you in a moment of bravery. “What’s yours? What's your favorite?”

You think for a moment, a kitchen apart, fingers tapping on the countertop and Hobi can’t take his eyes off of you. His body feels a little achy but in that ‘was just fucked good’ sort of way that makes his breath deeper. Quieting some alpha part of him that always wants a little more. A little more scenting, a little more validation, a little more attention.

But everything can wait.

“My favorite thing to eat or my favorite thing to make?”

“Both. Either.” You glance at the clock. Going to the pantry for a second to double-check that you have everything you'll need. “I’ll have to make some of it from scratch but-" you look at him. “Do you have time?”

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

Hobi watches as you measure out the flour and sift it. Hobi watches as you wait for the eggs to get to room temperature and fucks with the playlist. His phone will eventually get splashed with coco but- it’s okay.

All of this is okay, all of this is I love you I love you I love you and I don’t know what to do with all of it, can you take someone it, please. I don’t have enough space in my body to hold all of it. Hoseok doesn’t speak for how sheer the impulse is just to blurt it out.

The yellow plastic mixing bowl keeps clattering against the counter as you stir the egg yolks until they froth up and fizz. Pouting you turn your eyes to him. “Can you help?”

Hoseok has to swallow back the words before they slip past. Hopping up a little too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

You don’t tell him what you’re making, let him guess. So many of your recipes need egg whites and vanilla. You let him put it together on his own. Hobi doesn’t peek at your recipe book and spoil the surprise.

Every action, every spoonful of sugar is I love you too, just say it. You don’t talk about the sex you just had and you don’t say I love you to him. You wait for him to say it first. You don’t say a thing besides; “Just a half teaspoon of that; drizzle it a little at a time, or else it clumps together. Good.” Hobi’s cheeks heat with every bit of praise and you have a lot of it for him.

Hobi looks away when you look up from the bowl, oh so carefully folding the batter and egg whites together. So gently that the hiss and bubble of whipped egg yolks disintegrating is hardly audible.

Hobi hasn’t baked since he was a kid; since he got into his head that chocolate chip cookies were totally something that an eight-year-old should be able to make on their own without adult supervision and almost burned his parents’ apartment to the ground. He tells you the story and you laugh.

He can tell that you’re making adjustments as you go. Adding in a bit of cinnamon, piping off the cookies in neat little lines, and then tapping them oh so carefully to get rid of the bubbles.

The stove preheats and then the tray goes in, filling the room with your scent. That cakey baking aroma that has him resting his head back against the cabinets when you sit on the floor and greedily breathing in.

You wait the 30 minutes like that, sitting on the floor between the cabinets and stove. Your feet pressed to his knees and a glass of lemonade between the two of you.

“You really like baking,” he says, and your eyelashes flutter, you must be getting tired. He takes your feet into his lap, using his hand to massage up your calf. Smiling when you sigh.

“Yeah, it makes me feel- I don’t know. I like making the world sweeter, just a little. Even if it’s just my little corner of it. Making things you guys like makes me happy too.”

“You know, you could go to culinary school if you wanted.” Hobi gets a little shy because you hadn’t explicitly told Jin and Namjoon not to tell anyone about your plans or your application (still pending). It will be a few more weeks until you find out, but that change is just on the horizon.

He's already seen Jimin perusing expensive leather bookbags and has overseen a recommendation letter coming from Namjoon’s email. Hobi might have read it for him to double-check because Hobi always notices things the others might gloss over. Jin and Tae had given it proof read too.

You make a noise in your throat, halfway between a hum in approval and a hum in distaste. “I don’t know, it seems like- a lot to do for a hobby.”

Hobi and you are the only two in the pack who wanted to go to college but didn’t. Couldn’t in your case because Geumjae wouldn’t let you and flunked out in his. He gets the lack of clarity in your voice; to go back or not go back. To try again or not try at all and not worry about whether or not you’re enough.

“I already started applying anyway. Namjoon and Jin and Tae put a lot of effort into helping me apply and-” You let out a frustrated sigh.

Hobi shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter. You can change your mind.” There is always time. You tap your toes against his shins and he grabs your feet and you jerk, ticklish. And he almost almost gives in to the urge to tell you he loves you right then and there.

“But could you be happy? Doing this all the time?” You turn, putting your hand over your eyes to peer into the oven and make sure that the ladyfingers are rising properly. “Doing it every day? Would it make you happy?”

You pause, hand on the door before replying in a small voice. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I could be happy.”

You stand with a crack of your knees, sticking out your hand for Hobi and almost falling into him when he truly uses your hand to help himself up.

“Come on, we’ve got to make the whipped cream next-”

It goes like that, you both talking, and Hobi fucking with the playlist. Thinking three little words and not saying them.

You let the ladyfingers cool for a few minutes while you make the expresso. Dunking them in quickly. Piping out the honey-flavored whipped cream in sticky little dollops. Shaking out the cocoa with a practiced hand.

You make the caramel for the top last. Sugar-burning, glass-like little strands on top for a bit of crunch.

The tiramisu is a delicate creation, the layers perfectly spaced out in just the right ratio of cream to chocolate. You let it sit for a second in the fridge and when you take it out, you cut it into a single perfect little square and put it on a plate for him. Treading over the blue painter’s tape line and lingering by him where he sits.

“Try it.” You ask and he does obediently.

Hobi takes a bite of it, rolling the flavors around his tongue while you watch. You haven’t cut a piece for yourself just yet, but you have a fork. You stand on the other side of the kitchen island and take a bite from the other corner of the pan, humming happily when the taste hits your tongue.

It really is your favorite. You grin at the plate, “I could finish this whole thing in one sitting.”

Hobi takes another bite. It’s really good, the flavors are simple but delicate, each of them identifiable but yet cohesive. He could eat all of it too.

Hoseok swallows and realizes why it's your favorite; It tastes like all of you- like the pack.

The honey whipped cream is Jin and Jungkook, and the chocolate cocoa on top is your mate; dark chocolate like an Oreo cookie. Hobi thinks it might not be normal cocoa. The homemade ladyfingers are soaked through with Namjoon's coffee and the cake itself is a delicate dance of Tae’s cinnamon, Jimin’s vanilla, and your scent too. Buttery and yummy.

He's finished half of what's on his plate before he realizes that you added the crunchy layer on top, the caramel too.

That’s Hobi isn’t it? The Burnt sugar sweetness. He knows that’s not typical but still, you added in anyway. The smell of caramel is thick in the air. Sweet sweet sweet. Hobi always smells the sweetest when he��s falling in love.

The tiramisu tastes like the whole pack. Like love soaked threw. Hobi’s heart and body is full of it.

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

Hobi tries to blink back the wetness, really tries not to cry as he takes another big bite. He gets a little bit of whipped cream on his lip, licking it and sniffling. You pause, a bite hovering between the plate and your mouth before you set down your fork with a clink.

“Oh Hobi”

The space between you is nothing more than air as you quickly head around the kitchen island. You cup both of his cheeks and he sags into the touch, hands instantly going over yours to keep them there. Tears spilling warm and unabated down his cheeks.

Hobi decides right then he is beyond pretending that he doesn’t want it, that he doesn’t want you. Wet cheeks and imploring eyes.

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

You’re standing between his legs and your collarbone rests against his cheek. Your hand runs through his hair and his heart pulses hard.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry. If this is because-” you trail off. You don’t say that you shouldn’t have had sex earlier because you can’t find it in yourself to regret this even a little bit. But you are sorry for not doing it in a way that didn't make him cry. If that's why he's crying.

“No it’s not that. I just-" Hoseok can hardly speak his mouth is so full of love that it bursts from him before he has a chance to think it through. Sobbing a little as he says it;

"I'm crying because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hobi stutters and your hands on his cheeks go firm for a second before they relax. “I love you; I love being around you, I love that you're my best friend and that i get to love you too. I love living in this house with you. I’m crying because for the first time I get it-”

He can’t stop the confession now that it's started, and if he'd just open his eyes he'd get to see your smile but they're screwed shut tight.

“I get it, I get why once Yoongi met you, he couldn’t leave. I understand why he brought you back to us. But-” he hiccups and you giggle a little at the sound. His eyes shoot open and he realizes that you're crying too- that you haven't stepped away. You wipe away his tears with your thumbs and grin down at him.

“I'm so fucking afraid too- I can’t help but feel like the way we started just- fucked everything up. I fucked everything up back then by being jealous. I look at you and I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You hold his face in your hands and think; I will be gentle with you, I will be gentle with you even if it kills me. You have never loved someone broken like you, and you know how easy it is to make a wrong step. But you’re sure when you say the words anyway.

“You won’t.”

“But-” you kiss his hands, knuckles, fingertips. His forehead, his lips Everything. Your eyes are focused and Hobi can’t look away.

“You won’t, you promised not to hurt me and you won’t.”

He falls silent, and you pull him in close. His lips still tingle from your kiss and you kiss him again, long and lingering, hard with the force of your conviction. It tastes like tiramisu.

When you break apart, Hoseok rests his ear on your heart and listens.

You should say I love you back, you really should return the words. But you think there will be other moments to say them. You'll say it when you wake up with him tomorrow morning, you'll say it when you fall asleep tonight curled close to him. There will be more time to say them- during a late-night drives when you look over at him in the dark. There are always going to be more times to say it and you’ll say it and mean it every time.

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

You wipe his cheeks and he wipes yours and you both giggle, leaning into each other. You get him a tissue for his nose and start laughing all over again. Being with Hobi will always be like this, half your lover and half your best friend.

“Do you want to go on a drive later, only,” you wipe tears from your own eyes, “want to take the others this time?”

He smiles, “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

He tries to pull you in for another kiss but you feed him a bite of tiramisu instead and it gets half on his cheek, “finish your cake alpha,” you command, and Hobi is perilous to disobey. the next bite you take ends up on your cheek too because he tickles you, and you blush when he leans forward to lick it off your cheek. All giggly and happy and close. You sat practically on the edge of the counter. Noodle meows and laps up some of it from the floor.

You don’t need to say I love you back, you already have. Hobi can taste it on the edge of every bite.

You cut him another piece and share it this time, and he can't stop looking at you, can't stop smiling.

You smile around a mouthful, "i'm gonna tear up that train ticket."

"Don't you fucking dare. We've gotta like- put it in a scrap book or something."

You clean up the tiramisu, thinking of what might happen when the pack gets back, thinking of how things will go now that you’ve settled this. They’ll be happy; all of you all together finally. This last piece of your little family finally falling into place.

Maybe it will go like this:

Maybe when the pack gets home, there will not just be tiramisu on the counter. Maybe there will be gluten-free lemon bars and honey cakes. Chocolate ginger cookies dusted with powdered sugar and freshly baked bread with cheese and garlic. Little personal cheesecakes that you made in a muffin tin dotted with jam preserve because now that you’ve started to bake again there might not be anything to stop you.

You already feel the urge in your hands, the urge to make things. You think it might have been learned from Yoongi.

Maybe they’ll come home with pizza, unsure if a party and alcohol is really the proper way to go about celebrating, but the cake from the bakery that Tae will buy as a joke, will have flowery lettering and “congrats for losing your Hobi-ginity"

It will make you laugh until your lungs ache like the fireworks have gone off. Will make him blush and rub the back of his neck in shyness.

When they come home there might be a few sly comments but the pack knows when to tease and when not to. Maybe Namjoon will take a hearty sniff at Hoseok’s throat, dragging it up and down the nape of his neck, huffing happily. (Namjoon has always been a little bit possessive of Hoseok the same way Jin has always been possessive of you, but that's pack alpha's for you).

Tae will tuck your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the mark he left on your throat, manicured fingers gently stroking over it. and Yoongi will shoot him a challenging look and drawl, "really daisy? is this really something you wanna start?" all playful. the way yoongi only gets when he's really really happy.

And when Jin gets home, Maybe he’ll drag you over his lap with some squirming because there is no avoiding this hole check. Not when Jin and the others have been waiting.

Under the hungry eyes of the rest of the pack, you would still squirm. Your mate watching and grinning as he nibbles a piece of pizza and just watches as Jin pulls your sleep shorts down to your knees. Leaving them there to pin your thighs together. Hand against the small of your back to keep you still.

Of course, the pack omega has to look after the two of you and make sure the lowest on the hierarchy is being safe without a stronger presence nearby. But your entrance is pink fucked warm, not red and inflamed. Hoseok’s knot is the perfect thing to warm you up, and Jin tugs his sweatshirt over your hips to keep you warm as he examines you.

Fingers drag your entrance apart to show the others how good hobi did. Prompting them to touch and feel for themselves, all of their fingers teasing at your entrance and all of them touching you. Tae and Jungkook holding your thighs, Jimin and Namjoon resting their hands on your ass to help jin hold you open better and yoongi prodding to feel-

They'd want to see his cum slip out, forced from your hole by your needy clench. Of course, they'd just fuck it back inside because not a drop can go to waste. one set of fingers and then another, jungkook leaning down to taste.

Jin’s eyes would be all dark eyes and honey tones, looking hoseok up and down, cheeks as red as the sweatshirt you wear. His praise makes Hobi feel just a little bit too proud for his own good.

Hobi would probably get a knot-check for that, because if the alpha has something to be proud of then surely the others need to check his ego (and only in the way that hobi likes).

The alphas would scuffle with him a little, wrestling to settle him. Hobi's instincts are still fever bright and he needs to be put in his place. To feel the pack for what they are; very necessary safety bumpers.

He'd go so easily after a few nips- Jimin would help pull his pants down so Namjoon could get his big hands around him, fingers teasing at the red skin around his base and making Hobi growl and gasp. Pausing to cup lower and make sure Hoseok's empty, that he didn't hold back breeding you. Tae would tutt and make him open his mouth, her finger teasing along his teeth just for shits and giggles. Just to make him groan.

Nothing makes an alpha more proud than getting to show off his teeth.

Jin would smile at the display, and croon. “Good alpha.”

Maybe Jin will pat your pussy lips softly before pulling your pants up, making you flinch and then relax and jungkook would bend down to give Hoseok's knot a little kiss before standing.

The whole thing would take maybe 5 minutes but it would leave the whole pack ravenous for more. The final evidence of this finally happening; all of you together and not fragmented.

As you should be, together.

Maybe later, after treats and pizza, you'll all get to go to the beach like Hobi promised. Two separate cars. And Namjoon might let Hoseok and Jimin do donuts in the empty parking lot without too much fuss. The smell of tires and gasoline ripping.

Jungkook whooping and Yoongi watching on with his grin, Jin in the back seat with you going “Oh- oh hope- slow down” looking a little green. But terrorizing the pack omega is kind of your job.

It’s cold and late at night but you’ll tear out across the sand. Running to the shore. Tossing your shoes into the dark and toeing into the waves. Yelling happy.

You and Hobi will try and throw Yoongi into the water and then the other alphas will actually succeed in throwing Namjoon, pushing him until he inevitably tumbles into the seafoam. All 7 of you will try and wrangle Jungkook into the same wet fate and fail.

Jin will tuck Namjoon’s wet hair back behind his ear and grin at him, his grin saying the words they don’t need to. Kisses tases like secrets and salt but that much has not changed. Might never change when it comes to the eight of you. All the secrets in the world couldn’t keep you apart.

You’ll get zoomy in the way that dogs get in wide-open spaces. You’ll run. Your feet slapping against the sand, tossing spray into the air as high as your laughter, chasing after each other. A bunch of barefoot kids in too-big bodies and sand between your toes. Hands clasped tight in each other’s so that you won’t let go. You won’t ever let go now that you've found them.

For once you'll be absent of all the things that drag you down. Lighter than the warm air that billows over the sea. Mouths that store special secret salty smiles for the better. Damp fingers that curl against warm wrists. holding onto each other tight even though you’re running and running-

Running.

Maybe.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, what happens is this;

You are sitting at the kitchen counter when Hobi gets a text. It’s from Jungkook asking about the pizza types that you’d want and

Yoongi’s left his phone, he says with a little 👀 emoji. But he won’t truly tease the both of you until he gets home. Of course Yoongi was too distracted by you and Hobi post coitous to grab it from the other room.

you to to the pantry to put away the flour and this close- you can hear another phone ring from the bathroom. It's it yours? Only No, it's not your phone sitting on the counter, but Yoongi’s. Lighting up with Jin’s contact information.

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

It's so like your mate to leave his phone in such a random place. You smile as you pick up.

Jin is already talking a mile a minute. Fear and panic make his words come quick and desperate.

“Yoongi- why the fuck didn't you pick up" You don't have time to respond. Don't have time to let him know it's not your mate but you that picked up the phone.

"I don’t know how the fuck it happened, I don’t know- but-“ he’s almost shouting over the phone, such raw panic in his voice that it has your body going frozen.

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

~-~

Notes:

I ended up editing out a good portion of Hoseok ’s inner monologue at the begining, because I realized that at that point in time with the other pack he wouldn’t have been thinking stuff about how terrible it was because it wasn’t terrible yet. i probably should have even edited it fluffier if we're being honest. i think that would have been more unsettling.

The line where she says “One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.” Is a little hard to explain, she’s not thinking about Yoongi in that moment but the person she associates the most with love is Yoongi so- yeah it made sense. I feel like this line might make people go a little like “what??”

I swear if you guys didn’t cry a little at the ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’ Parts I’m not doing this right because I was SOBBING.

Listen, I almost edited out the line where he calls her pussy an inside joke so many times- but for me- when I was younger I always wanted to be a part of inside jokes because like- if you are that means you’ve got history with someone- Hoseok is thinking this because until this moment- he hasn’t been able to be apart of something that the rest of the pack had understood.

When Hoseok was leaving a hickey over her mating mark it’s his way of saying “this is mine too 😠” to Yoongi,

Honestly??? Why is Hobi so feral in this like- he’s a /little/ unhinged from how much he wants her and tbh it’s fair. Look away if you don’t wanna read him going APESHIT for her.

ALSO- I’m just imagining him on the walk with jungkook and Tae, cheeks slowly pinking up because he can feel that they’re having sex down the mating bond, maybe getting hard and the others noticing, both of them plastering themselves along his side and teasing him with words like “do you think he’s making her all wet and messy hyung? Do you think she’s gonna cream around his cock like she creams around yours?” and Yoongi just- endlessly suffering around the two horndogs that are Tae on estrogen and jungkook on a regular day.

The moment where they’re holding hands and it’s talking about palmistry is a refrence to noah kahan’s song everywhere everything and the line “it’s been a long year, in all of our books pages dog eared, we write out the ends on our palms dear, and forget to read.”

The worst worst worst part about this chapter is that I don’t??? have a fucking recipe for the tiramisu?? Like I’ve made it before but I’ve never made honey flavored whipped cream or put caramel on top 🥺 maybe I’ll test it out one dayand update this chapter

Okay so the ‘flash into the improbable future at the end is a little too horny for the end of smutt but I couldn’t just /not/ put it in there because you know how I love a good hole check scene.

do you hate me because of this cliffhanger? even i have to say its a little unforgivable.

please be patient for next chapter because i do not have A SINGLE fucking word written for it. like nada, we're starting from scratch come monday.

~-~

Hobi's sex Playlist (jk isn't not a sex playlist)

Dominic fike- Mama's boy (hobis' flashback)

Mitski – my love mine all mine. (yoongi telling him to be good)

Lana del ray – chemtrails over the country club. (the sex)

Olivia Rodrigo – can’t catch me now (when they're both triggered from the respective abusive relationships)

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

561 notes · View notes

vagabond-umlaut · 1 month

Text

toasty

sometimes, it isn't just the weather which is comfortably warm. sometimes, it can be one person, because of another person, as well.

gojo satoru x fem!reader; pre-relationship; gojo is a menace; you're a miniature circuit breaker; gojo calls you 'cookie'; mentions of food; i repeat: gojo is a MENACE; 610 wc; *empties a big container labelled 'fluff' into this fic*

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be treated as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

divider by @/benkeibear; pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this; jjk isn't mine

"do you like that dress?"

you shouldn't look this surprised, no. hell no.

you know gojo's been sitting beside you for the better part of the last fifteen minutes. and you know he has a rather sharp set of eyes, with or without his 'six eyes' activated— yet you do look surprised. terribly so— and the man wonders, what made you think he would not notice you staring at the bright piece of cloth in the shop window.

particularly when you've left your favourite ice cream on the brink of melting and falling on your uniform— not that it'll make it any dirtier though; the curses from before have done a splendid job of it...

stealing a bite from your cone, gojo plops back into his seat. the grin threatening to bloom on his lips wilts when he sees the surprise turn into something shocked, maybe even scandalised in your features— eyes wider, brows higher, lower jaw hanging lower...

he lets the grin form anyway. "what? your ice cream was melting— i cannot let the money i spent to buy it, go to waste now, can i?"

you snap your mouth close in less than an instant. then open it again to take quite a large bite from your ice cream, brows scrunching and eyes screwing close— the brain freeze gojo was in wait for, for you to suffer from, never comes.

you take a second bite, even bigger.

some part of him shrivels, disappointed— before it swells up again, at the narrowed-eye look you send his way— before it dries up a second time, when your gaze returns to the dress from before.

the fabric looks extremely dull to the sorcerer now. he kicks your leg under the table. biting back a grin when you look back at him, lips in an annoyed little frown.

although it doesn't take too long to become a smile. tired, yes. but a fond one all the same— you've always been too soft to him, haven't you?

he repeats his ask, "do you like that dress?"

"i..." your gaze drops to your ice cream for a beat. then rises. a warmth settles into your cheeks, visible and adorable. "i kind of like that dress. it looks pretty." a beat. your lips part in a tentative smile. "what do you think, gojo-san? will i look good in it?"

the addressed man pauses.

but it is not because he has to decide on an answer— the answer is a yes. a resounding yes— still, he doesn't find the voice to say the word, the monosyllable repeated over and over and over again in his brain—

"you always look beautiful to me, cookie. no matter what you wear."

the shocked, scandalised expression makes a return to your face, not a moment later than when the words leave his mouth.

only to be shoved away when you attempt to take such a huge bite of your melting ice cream, the chocolate chip treat ends up caking a big portion of the lower half of your face— from your nose and extending till your chin.

gojo doesn't bother to hold back his laughter this time— its loudness increasing at the resulting wrinkle in your nose when he reaches over to scoop up a bit of the mess with his fingers, then licks it off them—

"you're a disgusting man," you mutter, voice so mortified and frail as your gaze keeps jumping from his hand to his blindfolded eyes.

something curls up inside the sorcerer. the sensation growing worse, growing better, the longer he stares at this precious little face you've made:

"and you're a cookie— my choco chip cookie!"

the reader is an mcb— reasons for which, i hope, u all hv understood by now 🤭🤭

masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

251 notes · View notes

thorfemmes · 1 year

Text

Now in Technicolor

part i: "Color! What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams"

a/n: I've been thinking about the "seeing in black and white until you meet your soulmate" trope for a while now. I wanted to see if it would work with with two soulmates, giving us this steddie x reader au :). I hope you enjoy, and as always feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!<333

a/n 2: I'm sobbing because I've uploaded this THREE TIMES NOW and tumblr keeps glitching and fucking up my formatting. Let's see if this one works.

P.S. I did a stupid amount of research on tour dates, locations, and weather in 1990 LMAO please enjoy.

read part ii here

Rated 18+: fem!reader x steddie, eventual smut, an unfortunate usage of Y/N, gross humid Midwestern weather

Word Count: 2,113 words

May 24, 1990 was a grossly humid day. Illinois weather was always a bit spotty, but today especially was unforgiving. Y/N was in line outside of the Rosemont Horizon, waiting in line to see Madonna's Blond Ambition Tour. She had gotten there early, wanting to grab a good spot seeing as her ticket was for the standing room only section, but now that she was standing outside, alone, in the sun, she wished she would have prepared better. She maybe would've brought a book, definitely would have brought some water bottles. But alas, she was sandwiched between other hopeful concert-goers that were suffering the same fate as her.

She tried to subtly dab at the sweat accumulating around her hairline, accidentally making eye contact with the girl in front of her.

The girl raised her eyebrows at her. "Little bit warm today, huh?"

Y/N nodded and smiled, "Just a little bit yeah".

"Do you have any water or anything?" The girl asked.

She shook her head no.

"My girlfriend and I have a few extras if you'd like one?" The light haired girl started. "It's unopened, in case you were worried we did something to it. Not that you should be worried! I just know that some people would be worried -".

"Robin, it's okay," Robin's friend spoke up as she smiled sheepishly.

"It's okay, I appreciate the offer". Y/N took the bottle graciously and all but chugged it down. "I wasn't worried by the way. Not unless you're trying to weed out the competition for a good spot in the pit".

Robin and her partner laughed. "I'm Nancy, this is Robin, nice to meet you". The dark haired girl gestured between herself and Robin.

"I'm Y/N!"

The three of them got to talking, learning that Robin and Nancy had driven up from Hawkins, Indiana. The two were surprised to learn that she was in the process of moving to Hawkins.

"What made you want to move?" Nancy asked.

"I have a lot of family in the surrounding towns, and I'm planning on attending school out there. Hawkins lets me have a bit of independence while still being close to family".

The two girls nodded. "Do you have anyone moving with you?"

"No, unfortunately," She let out a small laugh. "No soulmate or anything yet". The two girls looked at her almost solemnly. "I'm assuming you two have met your soulmates already?"

The two grinned and linked hands. "Yeah," Robin spoke up. "We've been together for a few years now". Nancy cuddled up next to Robin and laid her head on Robin's shoulder.

"Well you're both adorable together".

"Thank you!" The two spoke in unison.

She turned slightly to take another gulp of water. It wasn't that her heart ached for a soulmate, it was that she had lost hope of meeting hers. Long ago had she accepted that black and gray scales would be her permanent point of view. High school, even middle school was filled with her peers' world blooming in color while she continued to see the dull shades around her.

They continued to make small talk until the line started moving.

"Hey in case we get separated, here's my phone number," Robin whipped out a sharpie and grabbed the girl's hand. "Call us when you get settled". And with that they parted ways, the couple heading towards the merch booth as she headed towards the barricade. When she got back to the hotel she quickly reached for the room's notepad and pen and scribbled the now smeared phone number.

Weeks had passed since the concert. Y/N had officially made the move to Hawkins. The few things she owned were shoved into a rented pickup truck and moved from her shared apartment in Chicago to a one bedroom all to herself.

The apartment was cozy; filled with fuzzy blankets and candles and warm art work. She hoped the colors at least complimented each other, but truly she was just thrilled to finally have her own space to decorate and make hers.

Her days were filled with exploring and familiarizing herself with the town. She visited every corner of Hawkins; wandering grocery stores, noting where the different shops were, even seeking out the record shop and video store for her future leisure.

It wasn't until her classes started that she started to feel the loneliness creep in. She glanced at her phone book every once in a while, debating on whether she should reach out to the girls from the concert. Surely it wouldn't be weird, right? Robin had given Y/N her number for a reason. Then on the first Saturday of July, when she was two glasses of wine deep, she used her liquid courage to reach out to Robin.

Double checking that it wasn't terribly late, she quickly pushed Robin's number into the phone and nervously squished the receiver against her ear. She picked up after the first ring.

"Hello?" Robin's raspy voice shouted over loud background music.

"Hey, Robin? It's Y/N from the Madonna concert". She winced, it had been so long ago, what if she didn't remember her?

"Y/N! Hey!" Robin must've covered the phone with her hand because she could hear a faint Would you guys turn the music down?

"Sorry, my friends are animals. How are you, are you in Hawkins?"

"Yeah, I'm finally settled. I was hoping that maybe you and Nancy would want to hang out sometime soon? I haven't really gone out with anyone since I moved".

"Yeah, that would be awesome! Are you free tomorrow morning? Some of my friends and I were planning on getting breakfast if you'd like to join us".

"I'd love to, you're sure I'm not intruding?"

"No intrusion at all! I'm sure everyone would love to meet you," Her voice called out a little bit louder. Voices in the background rang out in agreement.

Y/N giggled and set her plans in stone.

When the morning came, her stomach was in knots. Her nerves were slowly getting the better of her. Arriving at the restaurant 30 minutes early, she sat in her car and tried to hype herself up. You've got this, she thought. Robin and Nancy were friendly enough at the concert. This is you getting out of your comfort zone. And if you hate it, you can always leave!

Y/N watched as the restaurant slowly filled up. When she saw Robin and Nancy walk up hand in hand following a young man with long dark hair into the restaurant, she counted to thirty and took a deep breath before getting out of her car and making her way inside.

She met the girls by the host's stand, the man nowhere to be found. The girls greeted her with smiles and small side hugs.

"Hey! How are you doing?" Nancy said.

"I'm doing well! How have you guys been?"

"We've been okay! We're just waiting for a table to clear up. Steve couldn't make it this morning, but Eddie is here so you'll meet a part of the group! He's just in the bathroom, I think".

Y/N nodded and quickly fell into conversation with the two girls. The three were talking about the upcoming Fleetwood Mac tour when Nancy looked past Y/N's head.

"Eddie! Nice of you to finally join us," She smirked.

Eddie grinned at Nancy, letting her shove him with her shoulder. "Had to sneak out for a quick smoke. What did I miss?"

Y/N looked at the young man, his long curly hair framing the soft features of his face. His large button eyes were so expressive and full of mischief. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it felt like she knew him, he felt warm (which was crazy because she didn't know this boy from Adam). She was pulled from her staring by Robin's voice.

"So Eddie, this is Y/N. Y/N, Eddie".

Y/N snapped her eyes up and held out her hand, Eddie doing the same. When the two met eyes, Y/N took in a deep breath. The warmth she felt shot through their hands, sending small vibrations through her body. She held that breath as she looked at him, wisps of color blotting throughout her vision. Relief and joy and confusion flooded her system. She had met her soulmate! But why wasn't her vision completely flooding with color? Was he experiencing the same thing?

"Guys?" Robin's voice ripped them from their trance.

Eddie cleared his throat, "Sorry, um, nice to meet you".

She nodded in agreement, retracting her hand and looking at the ground. The tiles on the ground now boasted what could only be described as auras of color. Her vision still looked dull, but blobs of color distorted her normal palette of dark shades.

The four of them were then led to a round booth, Nancy and Robin scooting into the middle with Eddie and Y/N on each of their respective ends. They quickly fell into a comfortable conversation, Y/N looking and picking at her nails in favor of looking back at Eddie.

"So Y/N," Eddie's voice pulled her attention. "Nancy and Robin were telling us that you all met at the Madonna show".

"Yeah, um. It was ridiculously hot and Robin saved the day with a water bottle she swore wasn't poisoned".

Eddie laughed and leaned forward a little. "You've gotta be careful out there, you never know what Robin is trying to roofie you with".

"Oh fuck off, Munson," Robin laughed, throwing her straw wrapper at him.

The four of them stood outside of the diner and gathered around Y/N's car.

"This was so fun, we should do this again soon!" Nancy said.

Everyone smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Hopefully next time our resident dingus can join us," Robin added.

Eddie rolled his eyes at the name calling. He quickly took his keys out of his pockets. "Here ladies, go and start the a/c, I'll be right behind you".

Robin snatched the keys from him, quickly giving Y/N a hug and dragging Nancy away.

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his dirty Reeboks. He cleared his throat before starting: "Um, so -".

"Did you feel it too?" She cut in. "I'm really confused right now, and I just need to make sure I'm not hallucinating or something".

"No sweetheart, you're not hallucinating".

She couldn't tell if her face was warm due to the humid weather or Eddie's pet name.

"Can I ask why you're confused?"

"I... The colors didn't blossom like they were supposed to, I think. They didn't fully come through like I thought they were meant to. I'm only seeing little bits and pieces of color in between normal grays and whites".

Eddie nodded, recognition flooding his face. "I had the same thing happen when I met my partner, Steve".

"Steve, like dingus Steve?"

"Yeah, like dingus Steve," Eddie laughed. "Both of us actually experienced that. We were both really confused, but with a little research we learned that in rare occasions, some people can have multiple soulmates".

Her eyes widened. It makes sense in theory, but it was all overwhelming. Just yesterday she was sure she'd never run into her soulmate and now there's a possibility that she has more than one?

"When we made eye contact, color flooded the rest of my vision. All the black and white disappeared. I have never felt more comfortable meeting someone, not since I met Steve. I don't know what this means for any of us, but I know that you must be my missing soulmate".

She slowly took a step back, Eddie following with a step forward and his hands up, as if approaching a wounded animal.

"I just, please take some time. It's a lot to process. If you have any questions or want to talk, here's my number," He pulled out his breakfast receipt with his number scratched on it. "Steve and I have a lot to talk about too".

She nodded, looking down at the piece of paper in his hand. She plucked it with a shaking hand.

"Just give me a couple days to think everything over. I promise I'll call soon, I just need some time," She turned to unlock her car door.

Eddie nodded and opened the door for her. "Drive safely, and give me a call, yeah?"

She nodded and carefully pulled out of the parking lot. Eddie crossed his hands and cradled the back of his head as he watched her drive away.

Fuck, this changes everything.

Taglist/people who showed interest in this fic: @munsonology @alexxavicry @marvelous-musicals

748 notes · View notes

all-my-writings-and-musings · 2 years

Text

*stumbles in* Sinus infections can knock me down but they won't stop me from finishing Mactober!

Day 28: Past

Macaque x Reader

He rarely got sick, but when he did, it was often an unpleasant and lonely experience. Trying to care for himself while under the weather was hard, but he had suffered through it often enough to have a rough idea what he was doing. It was always a matter of just weathering the worst of it until his fever broke, and he was more than tough enough to handle a few days of misery.

Now though, things were very different.

He almost felt out of place surrounded by so much love and care, but he wasn't sure what to do beyond staying exactly where you'd told him, curled up on his bed beneath every other blanket he owned. It was impossible to deny how nice this felt, but he was quite out of his element. The fog of a fever settling over his brain did not make thinking any easier.

Footsteps drew his attention, compelling him to lift his head as you walked back into the room. Your arms all but overflowing with blankets and medical supplies, you wasted no time setting down the pile when you saw he was awake, coming to the head of the bed so you could check on him. A careful hand to check his fever sent a tingly wave through his cloudy mind. "Do you have enough blankets? Are you comfortable?"

"If you pile any more of them on, you may not be able to find me." he replied, playful and a little out of it. Memories of waiting out fevers seemed so far away now that he was here with you. It was almost impossible to remember those days, and how he'd spent so much time struggling alone…

"Good to know you're comfortable." you replied in a similar mood, smiling as you adjusted the covers. He allowed himself to lean into your hands, the dull ache in his head lessening at your touch. A few moments of contact almost had him asleep before you spoke up again. "Can I get you anything else? Anything at all?"

"Nah, I'm good." he croaked on reflex, the soreness of his throat catching him off guard. Briefly tempted to keep the discomfort to himself, he gave in when a rough cough racked him with discomfort, and your offered kindness proved too tempting. "Alright, maybe another one of those mango lozenges would be nice…"

"Here." you said without delay, handing him the unwrapped sweet before he could blink. Popping it into his mouth, he savored the delicious flavor and soothing relief in equal measure.

"You're the best." he sighed without thinking, so lost in the comfort of your presence he forgot himself. The many days he'd spent suffering alone felt like distant and faded memories compared to the simple delight of being at your side. He hadn't a clue what he'd done to deserve this, but he didn't especially care. Your careful hand lovingly stroking his head was all it took to lull him into a near sleep.

"I know." you said softly, ensuring he was fully tucked in. Quite aware of how rough life had been for him, you had no intention of letting Macaque suffer another day alone. His past would not reflect his future.

153 notes · View notes

narrycherries · 1 year

Text

we’ll be alright

Harry battles an exhausting mental disorder and the only thing that helps him is you, but even sometimes you aren’t enough..

masterlist // join the tag list

word count: 2.9k

warnings: harry x reader, mention of mental disorder, bipolar depression, mature situation, fluff, smut implied, needy h

The weather was gloomy again. A heavy thunderstorm was falling from the sky. The dark clouds were thick and the lightning was bright as it snapped every few seconds. A weighted sigh slipped out of your mouth as you closed the curtain, not wanting to be reminded of it. You hated this sort of weather because it was just another thing for him to be sad about. As a remedy, you always would take him for walks under the sunshine, and force him to make shapes out of the fluffy white clouds. He would pick any small wildflowers he came across and give them to you, knowing that you loved flowers. The sun made him happy, just enough to be noticeable at least. But there hasn’t been any sunshine in four days. It’s been overcast and storming non stop.

Your heart skipped a beat when you shut the bedroom door and turned to look in his direction. He was sitting in the chair that he moved to face the window. You didn’t want him watching the rain, but it was too late to stop him. There was no telling how long he was like that.

He breathed out heavily as you came behind him, gentle hands resting on his shoulders. Harry suffered with bipolar disorder, the true manic and depressive stages. It was heartbreaking every time he had to face this. You wished you could force it away.

Despite the struggles he had, he never once neglected you or made you feel guilty. If anything, he was the one who was guilty. He hated that you waited on him, and that you took such good care of him. Of course he’s grateful, he’ll never under appreciate you. But it’s a challenge, he should be taking care of you.

You smiled softly when he reached up and grabbed your wrist. He gave you a tug, silently wanting you to move in front of him. So you do, with no hesitation. He tilts his head back, dull eyes looking into yours. You could easily see the depressive episode in his eyes.

“I missed you.” He mumbled as he grabbed your waist.

“I missed you..” You whispered back, hand pressing against his warm cheek.

He guided you onto his lap, wanting to have you all to himself. He needed to be close to you, needed to feel you. You chuckled faintly as he wrapped his arms around your body and pushed the side of his face against your chest - squeezing you tight. You were like medicine to him, it only worked for a while..

“How are we feeling?” You asked in a voice that was barely audible.

He groaned. “Shitty.”

A smile spread over your lips as you thought about how to fix it. You put your hand on his nape, holding his face against you, and let the other one run through his hair. He hummed as your nails scratched his scalp. He was having a bad headache, and he liked the release of pressure.

“Do you want me to draw up a warm bath, honey?”

He nodded, strong arms gently moving you from side to side. “Wan’ you to get in.”

“I will.” You assured him, lips pressing a few kisses to his hairline.

“M’sorry.”

You were unsure as to why he said that, and when you tugged on his hair to pull his face out of your chest, you immediately matched his frown. “For what, baby?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting you to see the sadness. “Cus.. m’always.. ruinin’ everythin’.. you should’ve went with your friend.”

You huffed. “Harry.. I’d much rather be here with you, my love.”

“Baby.” His eyes slowly peeled open, and your heart dropped as you watched a few tears come down his cheeks.

“Harry, please don’t get upset.” You pressed a hand to his cheek and used your thumb to rub the tears away.

“I h-have t-to be upset.” He stammered, eyes shifting to stare at your neck. He was too embarrassed to look you in the eye. “You’re al-always.. havin’ to take care of me.. like a fuckin’ child.”

“I take care of you because you get better when I do.” You wrapped your fingers around his hair, not pulling too hard just in case he had a headache like usual. “And you feel better when I’m with you, don’t you? Why would I want to leave and make you feel worse?”

“You always make me feel better..” He mumbled, eyes closing again.

“No, no. Look at me, honey.”

He frowned, shaking his head against your wishes.

“Harry, look at me.. now.”

He never wanted to upset you, so he quickly moved his eyes back to you. “Baby.. m’sorry.”

A sigh came from you, it was heavier than you thought it would be. “Stop apologizing. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But-“

“Shhh.” Your thumb finger pressed against his lips, keeping them closed. “I’ll go get the bath ready.. wan’ bubbles?” He nodded lightly, making you smile a tad. “Stay here.. I’ll be back.”

You kissed his forehead a few soft times before pinching his warm cheek and hopping off his lap. He wanted you to stay on him and never leave, but he knew the bath would be relaxing for you both.

It pained you to leave him all alone. Despite how he can be at times, he hated being alone. No matter how difficult the depression became, he never wanted to be all alone. He needed you, and wanted you at all times. Even though he hated to feel like a burden, he always wanted you with him. It was easier to walk away this time because the end result would be better. You will be with him, and everything will be fine.

You made sure to cut on the hot water, knowing how much he liked a flaming bath. You poured the bubble bath soap into the water and watched quietly as the bubbles formed on the water's surface. It smelt like strawberries, and added a soft pink tint to the water. He never reminded the color of the water or the scent of the soap - as long as you were with him, nothing else mattered.

Once the tub was filled to the desired amount, you cut off the water and draped the washcloth over the edge. You placed two towels on the rack before walking back to the bedroom. Harry hadn’t moved at all, which didn’t shock you. He looked over when he heard your feet shuffle on the carpet. You smiled and held your hand out. He stood up and gladly closed the distance between you. His big hand engulfed yours and he pulled you close, his arm sliding around you.

“Thank you.” He muttered quietly.

You pecked the corner of his mouth, the tip of your toes digging into the carpet to push you up. “Don’t thank me, baby.”

The smile slowly growing on his pink lips made your heart melt, a nice warmth filled your body. “Can I.. undress you?”

“Of course.. you don’t have to ask.�� You gave him a wink and he chuckled. The sound truly made you smile, maybe he was reaching the end of this very long depressive episode. Despite the joy of the assumption, you feared what would come next. “C’mon.”

You drug him to the bathroom and close to the hamper, hoping the clothes you were both dressed in would end up there - though, that was doubtful.

“You look comfy.. What did you do while I was sleeping?” Harry asked as he messed with the hem of the big tshirt. You liked to wear loose things while at home. “Didn’t work yourself t’death.. did you?”

You smirked at his words. “No.. I cleaned the kitchen.. and I worked on that puzzle we started last week.. didn’t get far.. Mom called me.. we talked for a while.”

“I promise..” Harry slid his hand under your shirt and on to your waist, his brows furrowed as he spoke. “.. that I’ll do all the cleaning.. as soon as I can.. you won’t have to lift a little finger, angel.”

You licked your lips and put your hands on either side of his neck. “You’re the sweetest, you know.”

He lifted the right corner of his mouth higher than the left, displaying the cute dimple in his cheek. “You’re the sweetest thing on this earth.” Your eyes rolled and he grinned a bit bigger, leaning down to kiss the corner of your eye. “You’re my sweet, beautiful, incredible, stunning girl.”

You rubbed the end of your nose against his and let your lips gently brush his chin as you moved your head. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I dunno about that.” You bit your lip in attempt to push down your laugh but it slipped out anyways.

He hummed as your fingers worked to untie the strings of his sweatpants. You hadn’t seen him completely naked in a handful of days and you were dying to touch his warm skin. Sometimes he forgot to take off his clothes when he slept, especially during the bad days.

“M’sorry I’ve been distant.. I know you hate it.” He swallowed harshly as you gave the pants a gentle tug. They pooled around his ankles and he stepped out of them.

“You have your reasons.. and I don’t hate it.”

He softly grabbed your chin between two fingers and lifted your head up. “You mean absolutely everything to me.. I love you more than anyone could love anyone else.. I’m nothing without you.. I love you, okay? Please.. don’t ever forget that.”

You smiled sweetly and wrapped your arms around his torso. “I won’t. And I love you. You’re my favorite thing.”

He faintly smiled back, but you noticed it was indeed faint. He had always struggled with accepting the idea that he was enough for you. He constantly insisted that you deserved better, despite knowing he’d crumble away and die if you ever left his side.

“I miss you.. miss seeing you..” He mumbled while pulling your shirt up your body. You hold your arms up and let him take it all the way off. “You’re so perfect.”

His big hands grabbed your waist and guided you close. You decided to carry on, so you grabbed his shirt and he chuckled as he helped you take it off. As soon as his stomach was bare, you began to rub your hands down his abdomen. He smirked as he watched your lustful eyes stare at his skin.

“I missed you more.”

Harry gently touched your jaw, letting his thumb rub over your skin. “I shouldn’t neglect you.. should be worshipping your body every night.. every morning..”

You blushed hard and gave him a soft laugh. “Worship is a little intense, yeah?”

“No..” he kissed your forehead. “You deserve the praise.”

A breath hitched in your throat as his hands slid behind you to unclasp your bra. “The water’s gonna get cold.”

He smirked softly and dropped your bra to the floor. “We’re almost done.”

Despite how cheeky he was being with you, the sad demeanor didn’t go away. You could see it in his eyes, in the shape his lips made when he relaxed them, and even in his posture. You gave him a warm smile before removing your underwear. You wanted to speed up the process. He followed your actions, a little disappointed that he couldn’t do it for you.

“Do you want me in front or behind?” You asked with one foot submerged into the warm water.

He thought for a quick moment. “Behind.”

You nodded softly, glad that he chose that. It was always something you loved to do - holding him and making him feel safe. The comfort always made him relax, and you wanted nothing more than for him to feel better.

Harry didn’t say anything else as he watched you sink into the bath. He got in once you were situated and he sighed heavily as he leaned against your welcoming body. Your arms gladly slid around his torso, hands on his chest and stomach. His muscles were aching, and he was tense in places. You rubbed small circles into his skin as you waited patiently and quietly for him to say or do something. Sometimes you talked about your day because he was curious, other times you didn’t talk to each other at all. You always let him decide.

“S’nice.” He mumbled while picking up your hand.

You felt a warmth grow inside of your chest as he slotted his fingers with yours. “Mhm.. really warm.”

He let his body move in the water until his head laid against your shoulder and collar bone. Your back was pressed into the tub, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Harry sighed in relief as you brought your unoccupied hand up to his head to rub his scalp.

“Are the days getting better or worse?” You kept your voice soft.

He shrugged. “Hard to tell when.. when one day ends and another starts.”

You gulped quietly, hating that he constantly has to feel this way. “I’m sorry.. I wish I could help you.”

“You do help.” He huffed.

Even though he couldn’t see it, you rolled your eyes. “I wish I could change it.. I would change it and fix everything if I could.”

“Well you can’t.”

“Harry-“

“You help me more than you’ll ever know, baby.” Harry never once let you think you were useless. He’s never allowed you to take any blame. “M’not.. fixable. Every little thing you do for me helps.”

Your nails scratched at his scalp, but no words came from your mouth. A feeling of guilt was bubbling in your stomach. You would do anything to make him better, absolutely anything. He was aware of that, of course. He knew how much you loved him and how bad you desired to help him get better - but there was simply no getting better.. nothing could change.

“I don’t wan’ you t’ever think.. that i don’t love and appreciate everything you do, baby.” His voice wasn’t very loud as he spoke, but the tight grip he had on your hand assured you that he was being serious. “You make life worth living.. without you I have no reason to be alive.. no reason to be anything.”

“I love you, Harry.” You kissed his temple, your lips lingering on his skin. “I love you.”

He squeezed your hand. “I love you.”

A soft smile came to your lips as he shifted his head to press his mouth on yours. The kiss was soft and pure, nothing sloppy. You adored it, so you gave him another. He smiled back, and you felt complete. All you wanted was for him to smile.

“M’so glad I married you.” He said in a whisper as he ran his finger over the diamonds on your ring.

You chuckled lightly. “I’m glad you married me, too.”

He smiled. You absolutely loved his pretty smile.

•••

“You’re warm.” He muttered as you pulled the covers up to your shoulders.

“Someone’s being a cuddly bunny.” You chuckled as he nuzzled his face in your chest and wrapped his arms around your hips.

“Miss you.. love you.. so much.”

You ran your fingers through his slightly damp hair. “I love you, too, honey.”

“You’re m’ baby.”

“Always.” You smiled, wishing you could peck his pretty lips.

“Baby doll.. can I tell you some’?”

You hummed back, eyes closing as you began to feel very sleepy. His voice kept you alert though. He cleared his throat and gently kissed your covered breast. A heat rose to your skin as he stuffed his face further into your chest.

“‘Member we talked about babies?... I wanna have a baby..”

Your heart fluttered at the mention of a baby - a topic you’ve talked about a lot. You gulped quietly and moved your hand down to his cheek. You rubbed the corner of his mouth as you processed his words.

“A baby?.. You said you.. weren’t ready before..”

“M’ready now.. M’not gonna get any better.. so there’s no point in waiting for me to.. besides..” he lifted his head up, eyes finding yours in the dim bedroom light. “..I wanna have a family with you.”

“If that’s what you want, babe, then.. okay.” You smiled brightly as he suddenly flipped you over onto your back and got above you.

“I love you.” He quickly kissed your lips. “I want to have a baby with you.. and another.. and another.”

You giggled softly as his hair tickled your face, his lips sucking on your neck. “I assume you want to start now?”

He smirked against your warm skin. “If that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly okay.”

His hand squeezed as much of your hip as he could as his lips pecked up your jaw. He reached your lips and plopped a few kisses down. “I love you.”

“Will you.. be able to? Sometimes you.. you can’t-“

He sighed. “I can now. I want you.. need you so bad.”

84 notes · View notes

iwishiwas-anita · 8 months

Text

The Queen that once was, but never was again.

When the Queen died, all eyes were on her.

She was the sister of the King, an available and honorable match, so naturally, the first option would be her.

Should be her.

The Queen has died and with her death, she has taken a possible heir with her, a male heir.

It doesn't matter that the king has a much older, capable daughter, that she— Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen is a capable heir to the throne.

No, it only matters that she has a cunt, and not a cock, it doesn't matter that their thirst, their ignorance has caused the Queen’s death, for the king to lose his beloved wife and for a child to lose its mother, no they don't care for that, they don't care for that at all.

So when Queen Aemma takes her last breath on the birthing bed, she’s called back to King’s Landing under the guise of a funeral, but everyone knows. Everyone knows why she’s summoned and she’ll be damned if she suffers the same fate.

She didn't allow herself to be married off to the highest bidder moons ago, she won't now.

Not even to her brother.

Read More on AO3

She walked into the carriage that waited outside the dragon pit, the footman helping her inside. She stiffly sat on the cushioned seats as the carriage lurched forward and began moving.

To others it might seem as if she was to spend time with her family, to mourn the loss of her good sister, but she was riding to war. A war between dragons, that she was sure, fire would be spewed and blood would be shed.

She hated being back here, hated the nauseating smell of flea-bottom and the many eyes of King’s Landing. That's why she left, ran away, whatever anyone wants to call it.

When they crossed the gates of the Red Keep, it felt as if she had entered another world. She could feel the dense atmosphere weighing her down, and the fire in her veins sparked, she needed to stand tall, chin up, back straight. She was a Targaryen, closer to gods than men.

The carriage stopped and the door was opened. Taking a slow breath she got up from her seat and made it out the door. She looked around, the gray sky making everything look dull, not a single ray of sunlight. It seemed that the gods had a read on everyone’s mood and graced them with the weather just like it.

She is led inside the red keep, given a room different from her youth, and left to be at peace. She has a few moments to herself when someone is announced at the door.

Daemon Targaryen

It's a wonder seeing him again, a grin blooms on her face. “Sister” he whispers, and it's funny how once upon a time he would have had to call her wife.

He tells her how things have been, how dear Viserys has grown weak, has allowed snakes to sink their fangs into him, and has allowed for drift to grow between the brothers. She laughs as he tells her he’s been banished from Kings Landing more times than he can count, but he always comes back.

It's so similar to when they were young when Viserys would grow angry with him and wouldn’t speak for days.

It was simple back then, their only worries were how big their dragons would have to be for them to ride.

She tells him of her adventures, of all the things she’s seen and done, and all he has to say to her is a wry grin and “Coming back here, you're signing away your freedom.”

And just like that he manages to bring her to reality, The smile melts off her face and the girlish feeling in her chest shrivels up, She stiffly nods, “I’m aware of that, my dear twin.”

She gathers herself up, “I've merely just come to remind Viserys of something I thought we’d settled years ago.”

He grins at her words, hand settling on Dark sister’s handle, “Yes” he hums, “I'm quite sure I remember that.”

“Good. I’m glad it has stuck with you too brother.” she smiles

He chuckles, “Don't worry sister, I am already wedded.”

A smirk spreads across her lips, “Of course, How could I forget? And where is Lady Rhea?”

“In the Vale.”

Confusion paints her face, “Why is she not here? Surely, she’d have the decency to pay her respects to the king, no less her good Brother”

Daemon hums but gives her no answer, They settle into silence, each observing the other, until finally, she breaks it, “How is the princess?”

Daemon looks taken aback by her question, and it is to be expected after all she has only seen her niece a total of 2 times; her birth and first name day.

“She is…. well,” he says

“I can imagine how hard this is for her.” After all, she did lose her mother. It seems that all Targaryen women were destined for the same fate. What a tragedy.

Their reunion is cut short when he dismisses himself. She is left to wander her temporary chambers, the view from her window is of the distant hills of King Landing, away from the commotion of flea bottom. It seems that Viserys is attempting to please her.

***

The next morning she's awakened by servants, all busting about her rooms, opening curtains, preparing her bath, and getting rid of her chamber pots and such. She rises from the bed and goes to freshen up, finally stepping into the gown she had packed, a simple dark gown with a fitted bodice and sleeves, encrusted with red and obsidian gems, her handmaiden braiding her hair into a simple two braids connecting at the back.

Despite being used to wearing this type of clothing, she finds that she misses the comfortable breeches and soft linen chemise, she can practically hear the outrageous exclamations from the women of the court if she were to present herself in that way. They would truly believe she has lost her senses.

She’s escorted through the halls of the red keep and to the council room. She expects to see lords of neighboring lands, even the Hand. But when he goes inside only the King is there waiting for her.

The years have not been kind to Viserys, although he still looks the same there’s an exhaustion that hangs onto his frame. A sadness that reminds her of those merchants that sell on the streets, it’s pathetic seeing someone so mighty being brought down to this.

“My King.” she greets him bowing down slightly.

“Sister,” he says

She rises and finds him with his arms extended out, She walks over and into his arms, wrapping hers around him.

They pull back and stare at one another, The last time she saw his face she had a sword trained on it.

“How have your travels fared?” he asks

She manages not to roll her eyes, she knows he doesn't care, knows that the night she left he sent out word about her disappearance that if she was ever to be found she was to be dragged back to king's landing, “They were well. You should do it sometime, Brother. Get out of the castle’s walls, see the world.”

He hums noncommittally, hands clasped together, “Yes, well... Some of us have certain duties to tend to.”

Her eye twitches at that, “Yes, I'm sure,”

“And how have your duties treated you, Hm?”

She holds her hands behind her back, a smirk building on her lips, She knows she shouldn't but she can't help it, She begins to pace around the room “Daemon tells me how you’ve been…. Exceptionally dutiful these past years. He tells me how you’ve made yourself a king who changes history and tradition”

A wry smile crosses his face, his shoulders tense, “I'm sure he has.”

“Yes, but enough about Daemon,” she comes to a stop, staring straight into his eyes, “I've returned for you, dear brother,” she presses a hand to her chest, “I offer my deep condolences, Aenma was a kind, beautiful woman and an honorable Queen.”

He nods, chin resting on his chest, Silence remains, only the crackle of the fireplace accompanying them. She knows what comes next, she has seen it enough times to know so. The regret and guilt and the victimizing that they all play, the “oh I wished I had known better”, it's all a sham.

He sighs, “I… I loved Aenma with all my heart. I wish I could go back and stop myself from–”

He grows quiet and for the first time in forever, she sees him, Viserys, her elder brother, and not the king, not petty arguments and strategic ploys, just Viserys.

“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing, Sister,” he murmurs

She looks at him sideways, arms crossed against her chest.

He rushes towards her, his hands holding hers, “I am all alone in this.” he whispers

She scoffs and shakes her head, “No you’re not, You have Daemon–”

“Daemon?!” his fingers tighten, “Daemon doesn't understand what I'm trying to do, at every turn he seeks to ruin me, to ruin her.”

“I need you, Ella.”

She looks at him, his hands enveloping her fingers, she loves him, loves her family, but she can't… she can't put herself aside for his dreams, for him….

“I… I can't, Viserys”

She takes a breath, ignoring his hardening expression, “I love you, Brother, I do. I would go to war for you, I would kill a thousand men with my bare hands for you but this… this I cannot do. I'm not suited for this, I am not.”

His mouth opens but she pushes on, “I have no taste for duty, Viserys, I don't.”

His lips grow thin, and he appraises her hands, he suddenly pulls her close, arms wrapping around her, face tucked into her neck, “Rhaella, I am asking this not as your king, But as your Brother, I beg you, to please help me in this, nothing has to be decided now, I just need your support in this, Understand?”

The scent of pine and spice surrounds her, she feels her eyes beginning to burn, and his arms tighten around her, “I know you don't…. enjoy life at court, But I promise you, nothing will happen without us discussing it first.”

“Please, Rhaella.” He breathes.

She knew he was buttering her up, trying to get her to lower the defenses so she would say yes, and as much as she hated it, they were working. She had been away from home for so long, she had missed so much.

She stepped out of his embrace and looked up at him. She could see in his eyes how much he wanted her to agree and honestly, that made her feel good, made her feel... on fire.

She could almost imagine it, her; Queen of the seven kingdoms, but that position was more than influence and power, it meant heirs. She wasn't afraid of much, but the childbed terrified her, more than any creature or being could.

She had to refuse, she had to make sure he understood that she wouldn't do this, she would burn armies and cities to the ground for him, but not this, never this.

That was the plan, that was what she wanted to say, but imagine her terror when all that fell from her lips were; “Very well.”

And as he brought her in for an embrace, all she felt was a touch so cold, that it's a wonder she is still a Targaryen.

***

She stayed.

She stayed in Kings Landing for a year.

She stayed with him throughout, she stood by him and supported everything he did. She stayed when Daemon raged after Rhaenyra was named heir, and she fought the lords of the kingdom when they tried to oppose his word. Her loyalty never wavered, not for one second.

They worked as one single unit, like a proper family. It felt like one, despite the looming question above her head.

She knew Viserys would talk to her first, knew that he wouldn’t do anything without talking it out with her. He swore it to her. Everyone acted as if the decision was already made as if she were already Queen.

When she walked through the halls servants bowed until she was out of sight, and her chambers were constantly filled with imported goods from all over, the finest of silks, the delicious and delicate scents of oils for her baths. Mysterious gifts would appear, mostly jewels and sometimes gowns and beautifully crafted blades from The free cities.

The worst of it all was when Rhaenyra came to her after her flight with Rhaegal, The princess and her had developed a… tentative sort of friendship, she knew why she was here, knew that she was the replacement for her mother, and like any child, she’s apprehensive about that, she knows she would have been. But that all melted away when she had approached her and told her with the most sincerity; “I wouldn’t mind it if you were my stepmother.”

She’d never had the urge to mother children, but the way Rhaenyra had looked at her when she said that made her understand why so many put up with it.

It all seemed that she was Queen all but in name, that all Viseyrs needed to do was announce it to his court, arrangements for marriage were all that was needed, she thought that was Viserys’s plan, that he was was just waiting for the perfect moment to ask her, and when he did, she would say yes. He had shown her what life at court could be like, that her duties wouldn't take too much from her, that she could learn to enjoy them.

But then… something happened, something horrible. Rhaenyra had stormed into her quarters, tears streaming down her face, fire in her eyes, and with a snarl so akin to a dragon she said, “It was supposed to be you.”

“Why did he pick her?!”

And she knew, she just did.

At first, she cried, she didn't understand why she did, but then after some moments, when the shame and humiliation curdled in her stomach and bubbled into it all rested on her tongue, she raged.

She ran, through the halls, skirts fisted in her hands, blood rushing in her ears, Rhaenyra’s teary face flashing in her mind, She dashed past a fuming Corlys Velaryon, knowing for sure what had happened.

He had humiliated her,

Had made a joke of her, of…. of… of her kindness, of her loyalty!

She slammed the council room doors, the echoing crack silencing whatever conversation was taking place. Her eyes roamed over every lord sitting there, until stopping at a little thing of a girl. When her eyes laid on her the girl shrank even further into herself, She shifted her gaze to the Hand, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

“Sister.”

Viserys called to her, She stepped into the room, noting how tense everyone seemed to be, and stood at the end of the table, facing Viserys head-on, his confusion clear on his face, and her blood burned.

“Nothing will happen without us discussing it first.” she declared, staring straight at him, watching as realization filled his gaze.

He rose from his chair, “Leave us.” he murmured and everyone scrambled out, everyone but the Hand, that fucking cunt.

She glared at him from her place, her fingers tingling with the urge to grab a sword and behead the man, How dare he? “He said, “leave!” she roared and reluctantly he got up, his gaze remained on her as he walked out of the room.

Rage bubbled under her skin, the fire seemed to grow inside her, burning her up inside urging her to let it out, “That's what you told me, You said, ‘Nothing will happen without us discussing it first’, isn't that right!?”

He sighed, hands pressed to the table, “I don't understand,” Exasperation paints his face, “I thought you’d be happy”

“You humiliated me!”

His shock is evident, “Humiliate you?”

“You chose some Hightower bitch instead of me, You made everyone believe it was to be me, just to pick someone else.”

He had strung her along, had made a fool out of her, Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into the meat of her palms “You used my loyalty, my…. My love and when you were done you threw it back in my face.”

She could feel the fire burning at her throat, he fooled her, he made her believe that he had changed, that things would be different,

Tears were pricking at her eyes, so hot it seemed as if they were lava, “Why did you bring me here, Viserys? Why?”

She sighs exasperatedly, suddenly tired of it all, “Did you wish to get back at me, to punish me for what happened years ago, for defying you?”

His eyes widened, “No!”

“I wished for us to be together, House of Targaryen united once more.”

The fool, “We were!” she roars, “I was with you every step of the way, but you chose to invite strangers into our house”

Why is he so foolish, what happened to the intelligent Viserys, the Viserys that promised to keep their house great, She rounds the table and walks over to him, a finger pointed at his chest “You said a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing’ you made it seem as if we were lost, as if we were gone but we weren't, you separated us. You chose to make Daemon leave, you chose to kill your wife—”

A hand shoots out, cold fingers wrapping tight around her throat, Her eyes widen as she stares at him, but he makes no move to let go so she wrenches back, holding in the wince as his fingernails scratch at her throat.

They stare at each other, his eyes widened at what he had done, “Rhaella–”

“Look at you, You let a snake sink its teeth into our house, and now we all must suffer for your foolishness. The poison is spreading, Viserys and it will kill us all.”

Her voice rings around the room, her heaving breaths trailing after it, The air smells of ash, it smells of the aftermath of a Dragon's rage.

With one last look at her brother’s face, she turns around and leaves.

Not just the room, but the castle entirely, the whole capital.

She pushes through the doors, feet moving quickly, bowling over servants and guards, her breath ragged but never stopping for one second, As she rounds a corner she feels herself slam onto a hard surface, She pushes herself away and her eyes meet the hazel eyes of a man not even deserving of a name.

The Hand of the king pin shines gold as the sunlight hits it, such a thing how something representing honor and loyalty can be worn by such a farce.

Her eyes harden and the ever-present rage begins to toil. She knows he did this to her, knows that he had poisoned Viserys against his own family, knows that he is to blame, but she also knows that there won't be anything she can do without Viserys hating her.

She stands up straight, eyes meeting his despite the obvious height difference, but she won't let that deter her, she will stare the old crow in the eye no matter what. He even has a smug smile painted on, If Daemon were here she can't help but think if that smile would still be painted on when his head hit the ground.

“The day may yet come when you will find yourself a husband, Princess,” he says, the smile still present.

She tries to swallow back the poison nestling in her tongue but at last, there’s only so much she can do, “I could say the same for you, Lord hand. The day may yet come when you will find yourself a lady wife, pity that the last one couldn't handle her duties.”

Poison drips from her mouth, so hot it feels like fire. She leans closer to him, a devilish glint in her eye and a smile too wide, “I do hope your daughter doesn't suffer the same fate.”

She leans back, small satisfaction curling in her chest as the insult digs deep into him, curling around his heart causing his eyes to widen and an affronted look to replace the smug smile he once wore

She pushes forward, making sure that he’s the one to move from her path as she continues on her way.

She rids herself of the skirt of her gown and stalks through the halls of Maegor's holdfast, ignoring the servant's startled shouts. She calls for her dragon, his shrieks echoing after her thunderous footsteps as she makes her way out of the Red Keep. She marches out into the many hills of Kings Landing and prepares herself for Mount Rhaegal when a shout echoes from the distance.

“Aunt!”

The heir to the iron throne ran towards her, stopping near enough that she could still hear her but far enough that Rhaegal wouldn't be unsettled.

“Where are you going?”

She appraised the young princess, the betrayal still present on her face. Someone as young as her shouldn't have to bear the hurtful truth of the world, and shouldn't have to be anything more than a joyful young girl, but at last, the world is cruel.

“I am leaving, Princess.”

“Why?”

“My time here is done, I’m no longer needed”

“I need you.”

She grows silent, and the sadness creeping in is clear on her face, She pets Rhaegal’s neck, and dismounts, coming to stand in front of her, from this close she can see the unshed tears gathering at her eyes. “Please do not go.”

Grabbing a hold of her face, and pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, “I have to, My Sweet, your father is a fool that will damn us all, do not let his cowardice and idiocy ruin you.” she whispers to her before making her way to her awaiting dragon. She mounts him once more and with a sharp, “Soves” he rises from the ground, and she leaves Kings Landing for the second time in her life.

***

She leaves for Braavos.

It's great open skies call to her.

Word spreads quickly of a Targaryen in Braavos, lords, merchants, and the common folk come out to see her, all waiting anxiously to get a glimpse of her.

A glimpse of the once Queen.

She visits brothels, she buys, she drinks, she gambles, and does everything that she lets go of because of her brother.

By the end of it all, the days blur together and she can no longer tell where she is or who she's with.

***

Word reaches her of the King’s new marriage, a grand event that lasts a whole week, with tourneys, balls, and hunts.

How much fuss they make over a child being forced into a woman’s shoes is simply ridiculous.

Soon after that, the ‘Queen’ births a son.

She sells a ruby necklace that had been gifted to her during their ‘courting’ hoping he can feel it as the smith burns it, hoping he can smell the sizzling of the metal.

***

She receives a missive from Kings Landing.

The raven that brings it to her is a beautiful creature, wings dark as night, beak and claws sharp and strong, and the red seal of the letter a stark contrast against the white scroll.

It screeches and thrills as she throws it into the fireplace, burning it alive, the wax seal melting, coating the bird's charred bones.

***

Years come and go, seasons change, blood gets spilled and bodies rot, she’s restless and in turn so is Rhaegal.

A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.

Her brother's words echo in her head, they haunt her dreams and days until she’s left with a hollow ache in her chest.

She feels that he has cursed her because she has never felt this sorrow before, has never felt the need to be with people, she hates to admit it but that year she spent in King’s Landing has changed her.

She never knew she could learn to miss that place, could never know that she’d miss Kings Landing, but she doesn't.

She misses Rhaenyra.

She misses Daemon.

She misses Viserys.

Oh her dear brother Viserys, she misses him so much.

But no sorrow can heal the sharp blade he struck her with.

***

Wind rustles her hair, whipping it around as she twirls and bowls in the sky.

She presses her hand to Rhaegal’s scales, warmth seeping through.

The cool night breeze caused gooseflesh to form on her bare arms, the night similar to when she claimed him.

She remembers that night so clearly, that night was the best of her life, but also her worst.

She remembers her father’s rage, the fire he seemed to breathe out, she remembers the unfairness of it all. Her Brothers allowed her to do whatever they wanted while she had to do what was asked of her. Every demand she had to follow while they ran wildly about King's landing.

She was a nightmare of a child, she wouldn't lie, she knew she was difficult, but so was Daemon, in truth Daemon was worse.

She didn't sire any bastards, she didn't embarrass Grandmother or her house, she was good.

But that never mattered, it never did.

She remembers how she had screamed and raged when she couldn't train alongside them when her blades and breeches were replaced by embroidery pins and dresses.

In return she cut off her long silver hair, Her father then banned her to her chambers.

Her mother never intervened, she couldn't, she was dead. The childbed had taken her.

The worst of it came when her father deemed it right to send her away to Driftmark, It was all so reminiscent to her aunt Saera, she knows that if she were here she would have defended her, would have made her father see sense, but at last, she wasn't, she had taken her chance and left the constricting walls of their station.

Rhaella knows what awaits her, a life filled with pain and false performances, and she knows how she can stop it, she knows what she needs, and she would rather die trying than stay there a moment longer.

Who knew that she had traded in her father’s love for a dragon?

***

Eventually, she grows bored of Braavos, the whores no longer excite her, the wine begins to taste like seawater, and it seems that everything she once enjoyed no longer brings her pleasure.

She feels restless, she’s airborne more than she is on land, and there's an itch in her skin that no matter how hard she scratches won't go away.

It drives her mad.

She doesn't know what she’s missing, what troubles her. She doesn't know until her blood doesn't arrive.

She’s never entertained that thought, the thought of bearing a child, of being a mother. But the more she thinks, the more she dreams, and the more she’s alone, the more she wants.

The more her heart grows for someone she hasn't met but knows so well already.

She finds that the bigger she grows, the less her skin prickles, the harder the kicks come the less alone she feels.

She doesn't need Viserys or Rhaenyra or Daemon to feel loved, she can create her own family, without having the trials of royalty, without being forced to endure the vultures' beak digging into her skin.

***

She’s dying.

She’s never been close to death, but she imagines this is what it must feel like.

Sweat pools at her back, her vision blurred and her teeth clenched. Her stomach cramps and sharp stabbing pains come from within. Why she thought she should face this alone, she doesn't know, she could have paid anyone to keep their silence, anyone that could have helped her.

She hisses as something in her pulls and begins to rip her apart, hot flashes flood her senses.

A scream tears out of her throat, Rhaegal echoing it with a roar of his own, She smells the distinctive scent of iron as something drips down her leg.

Blood.

She feels too hot, a fire burning her from the inside out, the night breeze doing little to soothe her, hands grabbing at Rhaegal’s scales as she hoists herself up. She abandoned her bed at the Inn of The Green Eel to get some privacy but how she wishes she had stayed, maybe then she wouldn't be suffering so.

A whiny grumble comes from Rhaegal and she shushes him, groans of pain leaving her mouth as she begins to walk around the small hill she rode him to.

“Fuck!” she hisses out as another roll of pain goes through her body, taking gasping breaths as she looks up at the sky, the moon gleaming up above so bright, tiny pinpricks of light accompany it.

A shudder passes through her and as her eyes stay glued to that pearl in the sky, she feels her shoulders loosen, her hands stop quaking, and the soft growls that Rhaegal releases stop. She stands in the quiet, taking in the light shining from above, the cool breeze finally managing to cool her heated skin.

It seems as if time had stopped as if the world stopped spinning, and she can hardly hear anything, She feels herself falling to the ground, knees hitting the soft grass, There's a roaring in her ears, she at first thinks it to be Rhaegal, but then her throat aches, and her mouth is wide open and just like that everything comes back.

She hears herself screaming— no howling, a wretched sound that drives fear into her heart, something rips, and something heavy falls out of her, She can hear the wet sound it makes and the soft thud as it falls to the ground.

She heaves a breath, her heart racing in her chest, She waits in silence as nothing happens, not even Rhaegal makes a sound. She looks up at him, and his fiery gaze remains locked onto the grass, where she’s kneeling on the ground.

She follows his gaze and looks down, The white nightgown she wears no longer resembles a fair maiden, a pure creature of the gods, now a demon is all that's left.

Blood colors the white, her breath rattles in her chest as she moves to touch it, in all her time, in all the deeds she has done she has never seen that much blood.

Her hands shake as she lifts the hem of the gown. She doesn't know why she wants to look, she knows what awaits her, she knows what has happened, Everyone knows the signs, the smell, the feelings, but still her hand doesn't stop, her breath is caught in her chest.

The piece of cloth rises, so gently and so slowly it hardly looks as if it were moving, but regardless, the image below is revealed to her.

This time, it's Rhaegal that screams.

She stares blankly at the… the... The thing below her.

It's no babe… no child.

It's poison.

Its skin is gray, and scales run along its arms and legs— its entire body is covered in ridges, blood, and skin tissue attached to some. It has a tail that curls around it as it feigns sleep, it seems to her that this child had died even before it was conceived.

She looks down at the scaly thing and smiles, A laugh bubbles out of her, a girlish giggle more like it, until it isn't.

Loud cackles rupture out of her mouth as she looks up at the sky, eyes wide as she laughs at it all, the absurdity of it, just when she wanted it, it was taken from her.

The gods are cruel creatures indeed.

Tears begin to suddenly drip down her face, and she screams, shrieks, and howls into the night as the body of her child grows cold.

She tears at her hair, as her heart breaks, her skin suddenly feels too tight, too small, and she can hardly breathe.

Eventually, she stops, she stops screaming, she stops crying.

She just stops.

***

The days blur together, the last thing she remembers is fire.

Smoke curling in the air, Rhaegal’s mournful cries and the dried blood crusting on her skin, her eyes burning and her heart aching, aching for…. For anything.

Anything to ease the pain, the guilt that settles in her gut, how foolish she was to want something she has despised all her life. She doesn’t know what came over her, she knew it was a bad idea, had always known it so why?

Why would she do that to herself? To that poor…. thing that came out of her. She could have died, could have given her last breath spread open on the ground, squealing like a pig.

Her body is all wrong, all backwards. Her breast produce milk for a baby that is not there. Her stomach cramps up on its own, a deep emptiness that some days she can’t make it out of bed.

From time to time, blood pours from her, deep russet rivers that make her believe that this time she will die. That whatever cursed her wasn’t done with her.

The worst of it all is when she sees it.

Some nights her dreams grasp her tightly, not letting her go when the nightmares sink their claws into her and an empty cradle calls out to her. When she hears a babe’s shrill cries coming from dark shadows, from dark corners, from inside her.

When she looks down at her stomach her breath rattles and her heart stops seeing something moving inside. Something pushes against her skin until finally she’s ripped open as it crawls out.

Her screams blend with Rhaegal’s, but instead of fire spewing from her mouth, blood pours out.

The worst of it all is when fire consumes her whole being, but instead of the comforting yellow tones, green laps at her skin. A wild green fire that chills her bones and leaves her heart frozen.

She’s tired, she can’t sleep anymore. Can’t force herself to lie down waiting for some horror to claim her.

She wants to go home.

She wants to go back to when she was little, when her father was alive and he used to look at her with wonder. When Daemon and Viserys would take her to flee bottom and no one cared what they did. When Mother was alive and everything seemed brighter. When her home wasn’t filled with snakes preying on her brother, on her family.

She wants it so badly.

Yearns for it.

***

The wind ruffles her hair, her chemise. Her arms, her face. It whips all around her as Rhaegal dips and twirls. The chains at her saddle clink as the force moves them about.

Her hands grip the handle as Rhaegal, dips down claws dipping into the sea below them, he raises his head and begins to climb up into the sky, wings beating faster and faster until they are above the clouds, the morning sun glaring at them.

She looks around her, but she only sees white. She imagines that this is what being with the gods must be like; eternal light and peace all around.

She feels weightless, and almost as if she were possessed she loosens the chains at her legs, the ones anchoring her to the saddle. They give away with a sharp clink, but she can't hear it, all she does hear is a soft voice calling to her, beckoning her in,

Fly,

Fly with me.

The chain falls off, dropping down into the emptiness below, and she, right now, should land Rhaegal. She should hold on as hard as she can until they are safely on land, but she doesn't.

She lets go.

And she soars.

“Don't Worry, I’ll be the one to marry you.” He whispers, his warm hand clutching hers, They stand side by side watching from above as Viserys courts sweet Aemma.

Knots grew in her stomach, dreading the day when it would be her standing down there, some nameless lord clutching at her hands, promising her things he’d never do once he had her in his bed.

She turned to look at him, a slight smirk curling on his lips, “You will?” she asked him, a tinge of worry seeping in.

He smiles and nods, squeezing her hand once, “We’ll be together forever, We came into this world together and we will leave it together. I won't let some old man snatch you away.”

She grins and presses a kiss to his cheek, Her heart lifts and the squirming inside her stomach stops, she can finally breathe, knowing that with him, she’ll never have to do anything she doesn't want to. That with him she’ll be free.

She was such a fool back then, a naive little fool.

She tumbles through the air, hears a roar, and looks up Rhaegal’s claws coming closer to her, he sweeps in and they wrap around her.

They squeeze her too tight but she stays still as he drops her on land, he lands a few feet away from her and she groans as she rolls around.

He roars so loud that it reverberates in her bones and she can see him, raging at her foolishness, Fire spews from his mouth and paints the skies orange.

She looks at him, she can feel his worry for her, his anger, his fear of potentially losing her and she breaks. Her already cleaved heart shatters and tears spring in her eyes.

“I’m sorry” she sobs, She climbs to her feet and stumbles towards him, his grumbles spooking the birds, “I'm sorry” she cries once more as she collapses against his scaly chest.

“I’m sorry.”

***

She leaves Braavos.

The great skies turn out to be too big, so big she fears that they might swallow her whole.

Everything becomes too much when she mistakes a young girl for Rhaenyra when she mistakes a man for Otto and chases him, a dagger aimed at his throat.

The townspeople fear her and questions about her sanity break out when she does manage to drive a knife through a barmaid's hand.

Rhaegal makes no fuss at leaving, He knows she is hurting, and knows that his rider is slowly going mad.

Mad with grief… with betrayal… with loneliness.

She can't go back to King's Landing, she’s made a fool of herself there already. The last time she heard from Daemon he was in the stepstones fighting a losing man’s battle. She doesn't even know if he’s alive.

She’s proven wrong when she’s flying over Pentos and a familiar red beast emerges from the clouds, siding up next to her.

Daemon is a gleaming sun at his back and Rhaella feels it when warmth seeps into her bones at the sight of him.

***

When they dismount and meet each other on land she can see the dreariness on his shoulders, the heavy breaths he takes and he no longer looks like a sun, and no longer shines as bright as he did, It turns out that what she saw flying on Caraxes’s back was a skeleton, A ghost burning up, bones charring and becoming ash.

She goes to him, Rhaegal and Caraxes thrilling softly to each other. Daemon is not Daemon anymore, his fire is dulled and she fears what could have happened to put that grandiose flame out.

“Daemon” she whispers as she walks closer to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders, he stays upright for a few seconds and her hands crawl up his neck, fingers burrowing themselves into his hair and just like a puppet with its strings cut he slumps down onto her shoulder, hands grabbing at her waist.

His head shakes and his fingers dig deeper into her until finally the dam breaks and gasping breaths come from him, and that’s when she feels genuine fear. Because Daemon doesn't cry easily, never has, so whatever has happened has left him completely shattered.

“What’s happened?” she whispers, lips pressed to his head, “Tell me, Daemon, Tell me what’s happened?”

He doesn't say anything for a moment until eventually, he sputters out a “She’s dead.”

Her fingers grip him together and she fears for the worst, “Who?”

He doesn't answer her, tears just continue to drip down to her tunic, she presses him, hands moving up to his face, bringing it out of hiding, “Who, Daemon? Who’s dead?” she pleads with him.

His tear-filled eyes stare back at her, the striking lavender eyes staring into her, seeming to peer into her very being. She can see when it registers what she’s asking him and with a ragged whisper, he says “Laena.” Before dropping his head back down against her.

***

She stays with him and guides him back to the lord of Pentos’s home where he is staying. As she walks him to his room, she spies small twin faces looking at her from behind. They stare at her as she practically drags Daemon into his chambers away from their prying eyes.

Inside she can see his grief, the utter destruction that he had wrecked upon his possessions, tables turned over, cushions ripped open and shards of glass scattered on the floor.

She walks him over to the bed and drops him down on it, he stays motionless, looking up at the hanging curtains around the bed. She goes over and calls for some wine and as she waits for it, she sits down next to him, holding his hand as he melts into himself.

After a moment a maid comes in with a pitcher of wine and some cups, she quietly sets them down on the only remaining table in the room and promptly leaves. Rhaella walks over to them and pours herself and Daemon some wine. She brings it over to him, he rises with a groan and she watches as he nearly gulps down half of it, he looks up at her and she gives him a small smile, before taking a long drink from her cup.

The sweet and tart drink mellows her senses quickly and she finds herself more at ease, she hopes that it's the same for him. They drink in silence, her waiting for him to speak and him just… being. Letting everything go around him and just being in the aftermath of it all, she knows what it's like, she’s been like that ever since it happened.

He takes another sip and this time she decides to take the reins, he needs to know that he’s not alone and that he can talk to her.

Before she begins she swishes the wine around in her cup then takes a big swing from it, and sighs “I lost someone too.” She can see him looking at her but she decides to keep going, “ I didn't know them that well, they died before I could have.”

She looks down at the nearly empty goblet, seeing her reflection in the wine, “Sometimes I think I see him, that… that I hear him, that– That it didn't happen and it was all just a horrid dream”

He reaches out, hand grasping her shoulder, “Rhaella–”

She feels her throat clogging up, tears springing up in her eyes, She raises her head and turns to look at him, stopping him from saying anything more “I used to think I didn't want it, that it wasn’t for me, but then… everything changed, I didn't know it could be like that, Daemon. That you could fall in love with someone you haven't even met yet.”

The tears gathering in her eyes fall, one by one, “I didn't know I could miss something that never was, that I could yearn for it moons after it happened. I have seen death, Dameon, always had and I have shook it off but now, it won't let me go. It has sunk its claws into me and won't let me go.”

She takes a shuddering breath and gets ahold of one of his hands, “Don't let it take you too, Daemon.” She holds him tight as she looks into his eyes, willing her words to stick.

Willing him to understand.

“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing,” she whispers.

***

“We join today at the seat of the sea, to commit lady Laena of House Velaryon to the eternal waters, to the dominion of the merling King where he will guide her for all the days to come.”

It seems to her that funerals follow her everywhere she goes. She’s like a harbinger of death, forever dragging people to its door, She knows it is unpractical, knows that Lady Laena’s death was not her fault, she wasn't even near her when she passed, but still, there's poison swimming in her bloodstream, and it seems to like playing games with her head the most.

Her fourth funeral in all her life and unfortunately she was rather getting tired of them, but she needed to be here for Daemon, and his girls. The poor things shift from crying to staring solemnly at the ground, their grandmother's hand, resting on their shoulders. Princess Rhaenys, looking straight ahead, her veil seems to be a shield to her.

She stands next to Daemon, arms clasped together, She stands tall, something for him to hold onto.

She can't help but think that he’s fragile and unstable and that the presence of the snakes does not make him feel any better, but she knows that it is not Daemon who's unstable. That Daemon doesn’t need someone to hold onto.

It is Her.

It's a wonder to her that she hadn't lunged at that Hightower Queen at first glance. As much as it would please her to watch her bleed, she finds that making her squirm pleases her much more. She had tried to approach her before the funeral began but a sharp glare had stopped her in her tracks.

But Rhaenyra... Sweet Rhaenyra, who seems to be all grown up, has children, two young boys, with the darkest bed of hair and the sweetest eyes. She doesn't understand how that came to be, considering Ser Laenor’s coloring, but who is she to judge, not long ago she would have had her bastard child.

Your dead bastard child.

A dark smirk curls around her lips, her bastard child; is dead. Dead before he even took his first breath and looked at her, with not only one but two of her own. The gods certainly have favorites.

“Salt courses through velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.”

Vaemond words ring around the funeral procession and no one ever dares to breathe, She looks to see Rhaenyra gather her children closer to her while Larnore can’t even look at anyone.

The poison pulses in her veins and something whispers, Everyone knows. And Rhaella can’t help it when a drop of humor lands on her tongue, she’s seeing things for what they truly are, poor Rhaenyra trying to make everyone believe in her lies, to run a blind eye at the blatantly obvious.

She sneaks a peek at Daemon and she can’t help the giggle that slips out of her when she already finds him to be looking at her. At the same time, small giggles fall from their lips and she has half a mind to stop themselves but it seems that the poison finds humor in it too.

She finally manages to wrangle her laughter under control and presses a hand to her lips, silencing any further bouts of giggling. At her side, Daemon doesn’t even try to hide the traces of their abnormal joy.

She can feel the shocked looks thrown their way and she can only guess what they might be thinking.

Soon enough, the great coffin with nobody inside is dropped to the sea, and the funeral service is done, Guests and close family spread out, some lightly talking to each other while others head to nearby tables serving refreshments.

She turns to look at Daemon, and tugs on his arm, “I’m going to get us some wine.” she sighs, he quietly nods at her and she begins to move to the table at the back. While she walks she can feel eyes on her and when she turns to look, the remorseful eyes of Viserys greet her.

He looks horrible, hair thinning, face haggard with little scars and blotches. He’s leaning back on a chair, a cane in his hand. He truly looks like an old man now, an old King.

A dying King, it whispers.

She looks down at her feet before granting him an upturn of her lips, not a smile, but something similar to it. She quickly resumes her journey and serves up two goblets of wine. She grabs them and means to head back to Daemon when she sees Viserys speaking to him, Daemon looking to get rid of him.

She looks around and spots the great cunt himself; Otto Hightower conversing with his daughter, the poison swivels in her gut and she can already feel it flooding her mind, Quickly she turns back around to face the different assorted pastries and grabs one of the goblets and quickly downing it, before setting it down on the mantle, she grabs the other and begins to make quick work on it when a cough sounds from behind her.

She turns around, and there she is, “Rhaenyra” She greets her with a small smile on her lips. She expects to be greeted in the same way but no.

Rhaenyra stays silent, just continuing to look at her, eyes roaming over her entire being, She comes forward towards Rhaella and reaches around the table, grabbing a cup of wine, before walking away to where her children stand., and Rahella couldn't be more confused, she doesn't remember doing something to upset her, well maybe laughing at her children’s situation but you can't blame her, It was rather Daemon’s fault she had laughed but before she can dwell on it even more, the man of the hour hobbles his way towards her.

She can see the short journey to her, pains him, he is not as strong as he used to be, He stands before her, hand clutching a cane, “Rhaella” he whispers

“Viserys” she breathes out, looking at this poor old man who used to stand so tall against anything. Now he’s hunched over, neck struggling to remain up.

She can hear him huffing for breaths as he reaches for a hand to hold onto her arms, “Rhaella, I’m so terribly sorry.”

“I… I never should have done that, I regret it every day. I shouldn’t have made you flee your home. I’m so sorry but I am glad that you are with Daemon he told me how you have been a great comfort to him and that you understand his pain and difficulty in dealing with the children—“

Viserys’ rough simpering drowns out, She’s no longer at Driftmark, she’s at the top of that grassy hill, Rhaegal roaring behind her, green fire, there’s blood on her hands, sweet sticks to her brow, and that formless child lays in front of her, he knows he knows he knows, it frantically whispers and—

She’s back.

Viserys' clouded face becomes clear in her sight, he’s saying something but she only manages to catch “—well?”

She still feels a bit lightheaded and a sharp ringing in her ears so she only manages to quickly excuse herself and make her way to the beach down below. The sand slides under her feet, almost taking her off balance but she manages, She quickly trudges up the soft dunes and sharp climbs until her feet meet the sea. She watches the waves crash and run over and into each other. Each pull and push causes the air to have slight salty undertones. The sun, ever persistent despite the situations, continues to burn bright in the sky, uncaring of whatever turmoil is happening under its rays.

She looks back up to the viewing deck where people are still walking about, she just manages to spy a couple of the kingsguard leaving their posts and making their way inside, Vierys must have turned in then. Gods he couldn't possibly know, could he? No Daemon wouldn't tell, Daemon’s the only one who knows and he wouldn’t just spew her secrets out.

He would.

At the back of her mind, something slithers out, dark and ugly and twisted, it curls around her, over her eyes and mouth, forcing her into total darkness.

“No, he wouldn’t,” she mumbles, eyes frozen, staring at nothing

He would, he’s got no reason not to. You left, you left them, they all hate you for it, they have no loyalty towards you, no reason to protect you, you caused them to drift apart.

“I didn't, that was all Viserys.”

No, it was you, you were the one who left them, you were the one who refused to do your duty, you were the one who made Viserys choose another.

“I didn't make him do anything, he is the King and man grown, he can make his own decisions.”

Yes, but you were the one who pushed him towards that one, he dirtied our valyrian blood, but it was because of you, and you must suffer for it.

Great heaving breaths overtake her, There's something wrong, something is happening to her, There's a great ache in her stomach and when she moves her hands towards it she finds it bulging, skin pressing tight to the fabric of her dress, a yelp scapes from her mouth when something begins to push against the skin of her stomach. She knows what happens next, knows it, but she can't make herself look away. She stands there, hands limp at her sides as something claws its way out, blood marring the already dark fabric making it impossibly darker.

You are the one to blame, so your child was taken from you.

A sharp scream leaves her mouth as sharp claws emerge from within her, and blood falls all around her, on her hands, feet, hair, and mouth.

And suddenly, it's all gone.

And she’s back, back at Driftmark, sand at her back, watching the night sky, listening to the roaring of the waves. She blinks a few times, tears escaping her eyes. What is wrong with her? She can't be acting like this, so.. Weak. Letting things that are not there affect her.

He’s gone, he’s dead, and there's nothing she can do to change that.

She slowly rises from the ground, wiping the sand off of her. The chill air swept through her hair and stray tear tracks. She turns around and makes her way back inside Driftmark’s castle, to go and hide in her rooms till morning when she and Daemon and… the girls can return to Pentos.

Reaching her chambers she goes in, ignoring the guard posted at the door. She rids herself of the heavy mourning garments, flops down on her bed, and lets her eyes close, well aware that nightmares are the only thing waiting for her, but she doesn't care anymore, She’s far too tired to. Seeing Viserys with his brand new family, Rhaenyra ignoring her and angry at her for whatever reason wounds her. Sure she was not expecting a great celebration or open arms from her, but she had never spoken to her since she had left so truly what was she expecting?

She had abandoned them, abandoned her— she’d promised she wouldn't do that, but she did. She’d gotten on top of her dragon and never tried to reach out to her. Never wrote to her, never visited, she had done nothing. So in truth… she deserved it. She deserves Rahenyra’s coldness, she deserves to be ignored, she deserves to be alone.

With that thought she drifts, well aware of the dark shadow creeping at her back, of the green swirling around her.

****

Shouting.

Armor clinking.

Hurried footsteps.

A wail.

The green.

And she shoots up from the bed.

Her heart beats wildly in her chest, Loud commotion comes from behind her door, rapid footsteps causing the first thought to enter her head that someone has attacked Driftmark.

She rushes out of bed, quickly slipping a robe on and grabbing a small dagger, She runs out of her room.

The halls of Driftmark resemble a street market of braavos, servants flutter around carrying towels and buckets of water. They run back and forth, others coming and going from the sea snake’s hall. She follows behind them, her hurried steps mixing in with all the noise.

She reaches the hall, fully expecting to see some woman starting her labors, but is instead greeted by all the courtesans and the king and queen.

And a small boy with blood covering half his face, she doesn't know what she’s seeing until it fully registers in her head.

The boy only had one eye.

That's when she sees the queen, the poor little queen filled with fear, her eyes wide and lips trembling. Her hands are holding onto her neck as she stares down at the maester that is sewing her sons’ eye closed.

Rhaella’s eyes continue to roam over everything else, seeing Rhaenyar’s boys at the other side of the hall, the younger one with blood covering his mouth and nose, while the elder one suffers minor scratches and bruises. She sees how the elder one clutches the youngest near him, holding him close, and already knows what has happened, already knows that they have caused.

She straps her blade to her gown and quickly makes her way over to them. They shrink back away from her when they see her approach but she eases their worry, “Don't worry, I just want to help.” she whispers, reaching for the youngest one’s face.

“Let me see” She angles it upwards, assessing the damage. Seeing nothing too major she flags down a servant girl to bring her some towels and water and begins to wipe down the blood from his face.

“It was an accident,” he whispers, “I didn't mean to cut out his eye, he was going to kill Jace.” he wobbles, small eyes quickly filling with unshed tears.

She smiles ruefully, “Don't worry, it'll be alright.”

“It will heal, will it not, Maester?”

With a pregnant pause, the Queen’s lips tremble and the Maester avoids her gaze, “The flesh will heal, but the eye is lost, Your grace.”

Rhaella sees the devastation consume Allicent, sees the way it grips her so hard that makes her forget where she is. Alicent rounds on her eldest, her hand sharply striking the boy on the cheek, and a pained gasp leaves the boy’s lips.

From above, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys come down the stairs, making a bee-line for Balea and Rhaena whom she just noticed were at the other end of the hall. Rhaenys quickly gathers her granddaughters in her arms, comforting them, and softly kissing the tops of their heads. She watches all this with a strange twinge in her heart, She can feel the oldest of Rhaenyra’s sons at her back, hands gripping her arm. She turns back to the small one in front of her and finds him still looking at her, eyes filled with….. Trust. She looks at this little thing of a person wondering how it can look at her like that after all she’s done was abandon everyone.

She can see the maester tending to the boy, can see the blood caked onto the boys, can see the Queen's desperation, can smell it in the air, can see how any moment now it will spill and take everything down in its path.

With bated breath she turns back to the boy—Jace, “Tell me what's happened, Everything.”

The boy rushes in his explanation, some parts get lost, but she gathers most of it. The Princes were fighting amongst each other, dragons were taken, insults were thrown, heads were bashed in, and eyes were put out. Suddenly the doors open and in comes Rhaenyra, hair disheveled and dress askew, and just a few paces behind her, Daemon.

She scans the scene, eyes widening when she sees her with her sons, but that doesn't stop her. She rushes towards them, bending down to look at the boy’s face. “What happened?” she turned to Rhaella, stunning her not thinking she would speak to her.

Quickly gathering herself she explains, “It was an accident, but it won't be viewed as such, Lucerys put out Ameond’s eye.”

“The prince was attacked by his nephews, Your grace.” some dornish kingsguard explains to a raging Viserys.

“It was a regrettable accident.” Rahenyra retorts, Hands gripping onto her boy’s shoulders,

From across the room the Queen scoffs, “Accident? prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush he meant to kill my son.”

Rhaenyra draws back, spine tensing, she comes forward pushing her children behind her, shielding them with her body, “It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves,” a sneer covers her face, “Vile insults were thrown against them.”

When Viserys turns to face them, a confused frown upon his face, Rhaella can't believe the absurdity of this man, the gall to pretend he doesn't know what Rhaenyra is talking about. “He called them bastards, Viesrys,” she tells him, looking straight into his eyes, willing him for once in his life to stop the idiocy.

She leaves Rhaenyra's side and walks over to him her eyes roving over the green Queen with her green sleeves and her green bleeding heart, staring straight into her soul “I do wonder where he learned that perhaps we must sharply question the little prince so we can learn where, of course, unless someone wishes to come forward and well, admit anything” she finishes eyes glued onto Allicent’s. She can see where she realizes what she means, can see the panic strike her, her eyes moving sharply to Aemond and Viserys, terrified out of her mind that Viesrys realizes what she meant.

But as always, Viserys doesn't have a single clue on what she meant, it seems that he had stopped listening after the word bastards, and is now hovering over Aemond.

“You tell me, boy, where did you hear this lie?” Viserys, Allicent tries to steer Viserys’s attention to babbling about the training yard but Viserys won't budge, She hears his breath hitch, “Aemond!” he shouts into the boy’s face, “I asked you a question.”

Something is coming loose within her, something keeps twisting in her heart, pooling into her head, her mouth.

It burns her.

“It was Aegon'' the boy breathes out and it's a wonder no one sees the look of relief that overcomes Allicent’s face. It sickens her, how it is all right there in Visery's face yet he refuses to see.

Viserys, like some man-possessed stalks towards Aegon, and once again demands to hear where this “lie” comes from. Rhaella doesn't know what Viserys expects, that eventually if he goes around asking who spoke these lies he’ll find the culprit. She can't help the scoff that leaves her mouth, Rhaenyra turns to her, eyes filled with tears yet, she doesn't let them fall, She stands tall, composed, yet showing the right amount of anger towards this. Aliicent on the other hand looks a right mess, fingers bloodied, eyes nearly bloodshot, and faint tear tracks on her cheeks. She can see she’s nearing her end, see the rope is fraying, and sees that any moment it will snap.

“We know, Father. Everyone knows father, just look at them.” the boy breathes out, eyes glued to the ground.

The Queen has no decency to show no emotion, satisfaction preens under her skin, She practically glows, hoping that now Viserys will see what they have been dripping into his ears.

The green.

Bastard

Dead bastard

She looks at Rhaenyra, sees the fear for her children, the years of torture she must have spent under this demon, and with a single look she promises no more, this ends now.

“Enough!, This fighting must cease, you are a family. Now show goodwill to one another and make your apologies.” Viserys shouts and like always no one listens, Who would dare to listen to the words of an old man?

She sees the queen wilt, sees the realization that croons in her ear, no matter what you do, you cannot touch her.

Alicent turns to Viserys, “That is insufficient,” she breathes, the dam breaking, tears trailing down her cheeks. “Aemond has been damaged permanently, My king. Goodwill cannot make him whole.”

Viserys turns to her, eyes wide, “What will you have me do then? I cannot restore his eye.”

“There is a debt to be paid, I want the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.”

Silence, absolute silence, then chaos.

Viesrys ignores her, ignores her tears, her begging “Allicent, this matter is finished.” He turns his back to her, and like a viper, she strikes.

Green

Dead

Bastard

Dead Bastard

Dead

Alicent grabs the conqueror's blade that Viserys keeps at his hip, and runs towards them, towards Rhaenyra, Towards the children, Towards her, Towards the bastards.

And Rhaella,

Rhaella throws herself at the Green Queen.

Rhaella comes up behind her, hand reaching out and firmly grasping that bed of red hair. Strands held tightly in her fist. Alicent howls in pain and rears the blade back, trying to strike at her from behind but Rhaella avoids it. She gathers the hair at the base of her neck and whips her about forcing her to go limp. In a flash, she presses her dagger to the queen’s throat and waits.

Everything stops.

The queen’s shaken breath and her ragged one fusing. She can hear Viserys shouting only for it to fall on deaf ears, she can hear the roaring of a thousand dragons, can fear a fire that burns her insides yet most of all she can hear the shrill cries of a babe. Cries so sharp yet so hollow, cries that dig into her and then all of a sudden, she sees nothing, nothing but a speck of green.

A speck of green that grows, and grows until it suffocates her, wrapping itself around her, holding her tight, and just as fast as it appeared, it's gone.

“Rhaella! Release her at once!”

Alicent’s rage-filled shrieks are heard, demanding to be let loose, demanding for someone to do something but no one does, no one moves. Rhaella maneuvers them so she’s facing the rest of the court, her roving over their horror-filled gazes, but she stops when she meets the Hand’s eyes. She stares him down, her knife at his daughter’s throat. He begins to move towards them but Rhaella won't allow that. With a warcry, she raises the blade above Alicent’s head and she can practically feel the terror that courses through when Alicent sees the blade pointed at her from above.

She can distantly hear a dragon roaring, and feel the flames at her back, on her face, all around her.

Fire and Blood

It swirls all around her, crazed murmurs running across her mind until all is shattered. She feels a shove come from her side, separating her from Alicent and she feels as the knife comes down and narrowly misses the Queen’s face. She turns to see the little Queen, cradling her cheek as blood trails down it. Everyone watches in tense silence, no one daring to move until a cold voice says, “Very well, since you seem to want to take the blame for my son’s abuse, I shall have your head instead. Ser criston—”

“Allicent, No.”

Her eyes snap to Viserys, who looks dead on his feet yet his face is thunderous, “That is enough.” he hisses.

“Viserys—, She just assaulted me, she had a knife trained on my throat! she meant to kill me just as they meant to kill my son.” Alicent rounds on Viserys, grasping at his arms.

“Please, my love, she meant to kill me, She meant to kill your Queen!” She shrieks.

“No.” Rahella callously calls out, Alicent turns to face her, eyes wide and lips still trembling.

Rhaella looks straight into Alicent's eyes, sees the desperation clinging to her yet the fear that is beginning to form, she stares straight into the eyes of this demon, this poison that claws at them and demands for retribution in the wrong place.

“You are not a Queen, you are some whore—” gasps filled the hall, “that just so happens to spread her legs for the right man.”

She swishes out her blade and points it at her, eyes burning, “If I had meant to kill you, I can assure you that would would not still be standing here with us, begging pathetically for something that you do not understand. Her sons are next in line to the throne, yours are nothing. You so much as dare to look at him, and I will have your head. That is a promise.”

There is a sense of finality in her voice, her gaze doesn't waver as she points the blade at the Queen, tempting her to do something, waiting for her to try, and for a second she looks as if she will. But then, her eye catches on the still sharp blade pointed at her throat, the silence that comes Viserys and she lets down, she can see a king's guard coming closer to her but she puts down the blade before he can take it from her hands.

She turns around, walking back to Rhaenyra and her children, they stare up at her as if she were a god, eyes wide, filled with trust, with hope yet a tinge of fear. She turns to Rhaenyra who is watching her too, Rhaella reaches out a hand, and places a palm on Rhaenyra’s cheek, and lowly whispers to her, “I'm here now, I'm not abandoning you again.”

And just for a second she thinks she saw tears welling up in her eyes, but just as quickly as she saw them, they are gone. Rhanyra gives her a stiff nod, reaching her hand up and takes the hand that's at her cheeks and intertwines it with her own. She gently squeezes it, and with a small smile she says “I'm not letting you go either way.”

#hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targeryan #oc #Daemon and Viserys have a sister #Targaryen things #house targaryen #artbreeder

13 notes · View notes

drymushroomfics · 19 days

Text

Fraye Hill of House Lannister

Previous Next

Chapter Two

Fraye walks around the garden, thinking about her fate when she spots a red haired girl sitting. She walks over to her, realizing it's Sansa Stark, Joffrey's favorite play thing.

"Hello Lady Stark.", Fraye smiles at her.

"Oh, hello Lady Hill.", she replies.

"Are you enjoying the weather?"

She nods, "I'm more so enjoying the quiet."

"Oh I'm quite sorry if i've bothered you."

"Not at all. Your company is welcomed."

"Would you accompany me on my walk?"

She nods. The walk arm in arm around the gardens.

"How is Joffrey treating you?", Fraye asks.

"He's treating me well."

"You don't have to be false with me Sansa. I grew up with Joffrey. I know how spoiled he is. Ya know, you and I have something in common."

"What might that be?"

"He wants us both to suffer for no reason other than he is able."

She nods, "But I am to be his wife and I must be loyal."

"And being loyal is hard but smart if you want to live. You're making the safest choice hopefully."

"What about your marriage?"

"I am not sure what will come of that. The Lannisters do not want me to marry someone too good but they wouldn't let me marry someone that would tarnish their name."

"You have no one in mind?"

Fraye thinks of Sandor Clegane. She's unsure of why he would venture into her mind. She has barely spoken to him.

"No. None at all. Maybe someone exotic though. All the suitors here are dreadfully dull."

Sansa laughs.

They're interrupted by the same man who has been taking over her thoughts.

"You have been requested by king Joffree, Stark.", they hear.

They turn to find The Hound looking down at both of them.

Sansa nods and starts to walk. Ser Meryn Trant looks at Fraye with a sneer before walking with Sansa.

"You should keep your voice down little kitten. This place has ears.", Sandor leans down to whisper before following.

She stands there a moment, flustered by the name he used for her.

"Ser Clegane... Wait.", she says, running after him.

"Will you escort me to my rooms then if you feel it not safe?", she asks.

He nods, making no attempt to slow down for her.

"Um... What do you do for entertainment? When you are not guarding the king.", she asks, trying to make small talk.

"Drink. Kill.", is his small reply.

"I figured as much. You don't have any other interests. Like reading or-?"

"Why are you asking questions, girl?"

"I just- I don't know you."

"You don't need to know me."

"The Lannisters trust you. Of course I should know you."

"All you need to know is my protection little kitten."

She walks up to her door. He's already turning away from her. She needs to think of something to say

"Ser Clegane.", she says, blurting the first thing that cames to mind, "I can hold my drink if you ever need a drinking companion."

He doesn't turn to her or making any gesture. He seems to walk faster away from her.

There's a thick wall guarding Sandor Clegane and Fraye knows there's a crack somewhere in the foundation. She's determined to at least peek through the crack to find what's on the other side.

#sandor clegane x original female character #sandor clegane #game of thrones #gregor clegane #tyrion lannister #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #joffrey baratheon #fanfiction #fanfic #ofc #original female character #the hound #secret love #sansa stark #sandor #pining #arranged marriage

2 notes · View notes

celestiall0tus · 10 months

Text

Miraculous AU- Chapter 10 - Stormy Weather

Beginning || Previous || Next

Aurore Beauréal stood before the cameras on stage while the announcer prattled on. Today was the day when the KIDZ+ contest would conclude, and a new weather girl crowned. She fought hard to be here and now she just had to wait. She took a glance at her opponent. She smirked to herself, knowing she’d win. Despite the voices, she knew was beloved and the people would vote for her.

“The votes are in, and the winner is… Mireille Caquet! Congratulations!”

Aurore’s jaw dropped as the audience roared with applause. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. How could she lose? She was supposed to win.

“Better luck next time, Aurore,” the announcer told her.

Aurore growled and stormed off, making her way to the elevators. She should have been the winner. The people were wrong to choose that Mireille girl when she was the better choice. She’d show them how wrong they were. She’d make them pay. Someway, somehow.

A voice whispered to her: I can help you in your quest, young lady.

Aurore laughed as she stepped into the elevator. “You’ve been in my head for days and only now offer help? What could you possibly do?”

I can offer you power to show the people who the true weather girl is and make them suffer. If you accept, simply step outside.

Aurore clutched her parasol. Her scowl twisted into a smile as she let out a slow, maniacal laughter. What other choice did she have? How else would she make the people pay for their actions?

Once the elevator doors opened, Aurore made her way outside. A crowd of reporters and fans waited outside. There was an onslaught of questions, but she ignored them. She looked on as a strange little butterfly disappeared into her parasol. Shadows wrapped around her. The crowd buzzed as they watched the shadows fade away.

Aurore’s skin turned sickly white like snow. Her blue sundress transformed into storm clouds that clung to her body with crackles of lightning flashing through the dress. Her blonde hair now black and undone from their pigtails as it frizzled out behind her. The yellow parasol turned a dark purple and pulsed at the tip.

Aurore grinned. “I would advise everyone head indoors. We’ll be expecting a freak storm right about now.”

Aurore thrust her parasol up. It opened and the winds picked up. Pitch black storm clouds formed overhead and spread across the city. She cackled as lightning flashed, then struck.

Juleka sat at her vanity table, messing with her hair. She and the girls would be spending the day out on the city for another “back to school” outing. She thought maybe she could do something different, but nothing felt quite right. She sighed and let her hair fall. Maybe some different accessories might do it. She opened her jewelry box and paused.

Something was different. Everything looked like it had been moved. Juleka reached in, moved things around until she unearthed a silver pendant necklace that wasn’t there before. She took it out and examined it. It looked to be made of fine silver and was smooth without any markings on the side she had up. She turned it over and saw an engraving of a mouse symbol on it.

Juleka’s breath caught, and her heart skipped a beat. Was this a piece of jewelry like what Marinette and Alya had? There wasn’t a kwami around that she saw. Maybe it was just a piece that Rose wanted to surprise her with. Rose tended to hide things for her to find, but she doubted it was Rose. When Rose hid things, she would make a big deal, and Rose hadn’t prior to her finding the necklace.

A knock startled Juleka as she quickly put the necklace back into the jewelry box. Luka stepped into her room. Pain hit her as she looked at the dark circles under his eyes. The dull glossiness to his eyes as he smiled weakly.

“The girls are here, Jul. Be careful, it looks like it might storm.”

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Huh? Oh, I have. Just, bad dreams.”

“Do you need something to help? I have lavender incense.”

“I can’t handle those things, Jule.”

“What about an amethyst or a citrine?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Ok. Hey, did you… do you want to come?”

“I don’t want to intrude on your outing with your friends.”

“They’re your friends too.”

“I know, but-.”

Juleka looked at him puppy dog eyes, cutting him off. “Please, Luka?”

Luka sighed. “I will, only if they’re ok with it too.”

Juleka nodded. She gave Luka a quick hug, then headed out to meet her friends. She slowed when she saw the sky covered with the darkest clouds she’d ever seen. Her gaze moved to her friends who stood on the deck, staring at the sky. She stepped out to join them, her eyes never leaving the sky.

“Hey, Juleka, I know we were supposed to spend the day on the city, but could we maybe stay here until the storm passes?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah, I feel that we shouldn’t be out when that hits,” Alya added.

“That’s fine. And when we head out, do you think Luka could join us?”

Alix shrugged.

“Of course! That would be awesome,” Rose cheered.

“That would be fun. He’s always good company,” Marinette added.

Alya nodded.

“Thank you, girls. Let’s go below before it starts to rain.”

“Alright, you have your hour for lunch, then we’ll continue lessons after. I’ll check on the lunch preparations and call you down when it’s ready,” Nathalie said.

Adrien nodded and stood. He turned and looked out the window. Lightning streaked across the sky as thunder boomed overhead. A moment later rain poured from the sky in sheets. He sighed and headed to his room. He took a seat on the couch and turned his TV on to the weather channel. Plagg emerged from his nightstand and hovered beside Adrien.

“The weather channel? Really?”

“What? I want to know how long this storm is supposed to last.”

Plagg rolled his eyes but remained beside Adrien. They watched until the broadcast turned to a white-skinned woman wrapped in storm clouds.

“Plagg, is that?”

“It is.”

“Good afternoon, Paris. Today’s forecast is a freak storm with bone-chilling rain with winds to tear you apart. Oh, and expect dagger shaped hail for the unfortunate bastards caught in the weather.”

“We need to go,” Adrien said.

“Do we have to? It’s raining.”

“Plagg, claws out.”

Plagg vanished into the ring and transformed Adrien.

Chat Noir ran to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He opened the window and hopped out. Once outside, the rain hit him hard that left a stinging feeling. The wind whipped around him, daring to push him its way. He pushed on, leapt over the fence, and made his way towards the news center.

Alya stood in the doorway, looking out at the storm. She watched the rain come down in sheets while lightning struck everywhere. The wind whipped the water around, creating waves that reached onto the deck. Something about this wasn’t right. It felt supernatural.

“Hey, Alya, can I talk to you,” Juleka said quietly. She approached and stood beside Alya, looking out at the storm.

“What’s up?”

“I, uh, I found something. And I was hoping you could maybe look at it with that kwami.”

“Sure. Let’s see it.”

“One moment.” Juleka ran back downstairs.

Alya continued to watch the storm. A feeling crept up through her body. She shivered as it sent chills up and down her. She squirmed as her body prickled. The feeling blossomed into dread as the waves got bigger. She grabbed the railing as a wave slammed into the boat that sent freezing water into it.

Alya jumped down the steps, slashing ankle water. “We have to leave! We can’t stay here.”

Luka nodded. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Marinette, Alix, and Rose scrambled to their feet, rushing up the stairs. Another wave hit them and sent them tumbling while the boat filled with more water. Alya helped the girls to their feet and out.

“Let’s go, Luka!”

“Wait, what about Juleka? Where is she?”

“I’m here!” Juleka called as she ran through the water, now knee high.

A third wave hit them, causing Juleka to fall into the water. Luka started towards Juleka, but Alya grabbed him.

“Let go! I need to help her!”

“No. Get out of here!” Alya yelled.

“Absolutely not! I need to save her!”

“But who’ll save you if you fall?” Alya challenged.

Luka paused. He looked away as he gritted his teeth and furrowed his brow. Alya took the chance to push Luka onto the deck. She braced herself as another wave hit.

“C’mon, Juleka!”

Alya waited as Juleka stumbled from the water. Alya held out a hand for Juleka. Juleka reached out but placed the silver pendant necklace in Alya’s hand. Juleka grabbed onto the railing as she hoisted herself out of the water.

“Go! I’ll catch up.”

Alya nodded. She stuffed the necklace in her pocket as she ran out. She ran for the walkway but was caught off guard by another wave. This one tilted the boat away from the walkway. Panic seized Alya as she grabbed the railing.

“Fang, let’s hunt!”

Fang materialized and disappeared into the bracelet, transforming Alya.

Through the storm, Louve heard the faintest splash. She turned to see bubbles foaming where something, or someone fell in. She readied to let go, to dive in as she saw Chat Noir dive into the water. She grimaced, then jumped onto the walkway, taking shelter under the bridge with the others.

Marinette, now Ladybug, approached Louve. “Where’s Juleka?”

Louve didn’t speak. She watched the other end until Chat stumbled onto the walkway with Juleka in his arms. She ran over to him with Ladybug. She took Juleka while Ladybug helped Chat.

“Chat, are you ok?” Ladybug asked.

Chat let out a long breath. “Oh lovely. Just a pleasant stroll through a torrential storm with winds that’d otherwise blow me away. The fight against the undertow was a nice touch too.”

Ladybug grimaced as she helped Chat sit. “Take a moment to rest.”

Chat nodded and leaned against the wall. Ladybug watched everything. Luka performed CPR on Juleka while the others watched anxiously. After a few moments, Juleka coughed up water and moved. They all exhaled while Luka and Rose hugged Juleka. The others looked after Juleka while Louve approached Ladybug and Chat.

“So, what’s the plan?”

Chat took a deep breath. “Head towards the news station. I think the akumatized person is there.”

“Did you see something?” Ladybug asked.

“I was watching the weather when I saw her. Skin like snow and dressed in a storm, boasting about a freak storm. It’s gotten worse the closer I’ve gotten to the building, so I assume she’s still there.”

“Then we head in that direction. Once you’re ready, we’ll head out.”

“Just five minutes.”

Louve nodded and walked back to the girls.

Ladybug sat beside Chat. “So, what should we do?”

“What do you mean?”

“With these winds, I won’t be able to travel through the city at the same pace as you or Louve.”

“I could always carry you if you’d like, Bugaboo.”

Ladybug blushed. “It might be better that way. Especially if-.”

Before Ladybug could finish, the lights flickered and went out. They were plunged into absolute darkness, except for Chat and Louve.

“Great. Why did I have to say something?” Ladybug mumbled.

Chat smiled, about to comment, but his ears twitched. He turned and glared at Luka, who muttered about them being in the company of the creature of misfortune. Luka glared back at Chat’s bright green eyes that glowed in the dark.

“Let’s get going. I think I’ve rested enough.” Chat stood and turned to see splinters of hail fall with the rain. “And there’s the hail.”

Ladybug looked out into the void as she heard the hail hit the concrete. She felt for her yo-yo and pulled it out. Louve put a hand over Ladybug’s.

“Save your powers.”

“But-!”

“If Chat made it through the storm. We can too.”

Chat scooped up Ladybug. “Trust us, Lady.”

“What about the hail?”

“Just watch your heads,” Louve said.

Ladybug gave a hesitant nod.

Louve looked at their friends. “Will you guys be alright?”

“We’ll be fine. You guys put an end to this, please,” Rose said.

“Hopefully before we freeze,” Alix remarked.

Louve nodded and joined Chat Noir and Ladybug. Chat took his staff and tossed it to Louve.

“Here. With Lady, it’s probably best you use it. The green pawprint button extends and retracts it.”

“Got it. Ready?”

“Ready,” Ladybug and Chat said.

Nathalie knocked on Adrien’s door before she entered. She moved her flashlight as she looked around. She furrowed her brow when she didn’t see him.

“Adrien?”

No answer.

Duusu crawled out from Nathalie’s suit jacket. “Is he gone?”

“Hush. He’s probably in the bathroom.”

Nathalie approached Adrien’s bathroom and knocked. She waited for a minute but didn’t hear anything. She knocked again and announced herself before she entered. She waved the flashlight around. There was no sign of him, and the windows were open. Cold dread seized her as the flashlight fell from her hand.

“He’s not here.”

“So, he is capable of more. Who’d have thought.”

“Duusu, this isn’t good. Gabriel is going to kill me! His son is out doing who knows what in this storm and he’s going to blame me for it.”

Duusu patted Nathalie’s cheek. “Relax. Let’s look around his room.”

Nathalie picked up the flashlight. She went through his room, looking in typical hiding spots, but didn’t find anything unusual. Panic gnawed at her as she came up empty handed.

“Duusu, what am I gonna do?”

“Well, I might have found something.”

Nathalie turned towards Duusu’s voice that came from one of Adrien’s nightstands. She opened the drawer and found Duusu next to a round golden container. She opened it and recoiled at the odor of camembert cheese.

“What’s this have to do with anything?”

“Well, we kwamis do like food to recharge our powers, yes? And he just happens to have this specific food.”

“But there’s a cat that comes by that likes this cheese and-.”

Nathalie stopped her thought. Was that cat a kwami? When she met Duusu, he was a peacock before he approached her with his brooch.

“I think you know already.”

“Which kwami is it? The cat?”

“The black cat of destruction. He’s the one paired with the creation kwami. The two that are out in this storm cleaning up Papillon’s supernatural disaster.”

Nathalie frowned. She tossed the container back into the nightstand. “Why would he do this? Doesn’t he realize how dangerous that is? He could get himself killed!”

“Look, not that I’m defending that cat or Adrien, but as it is, Adrien is safest with his kwami, even in this weather.”

“But-!”

“Nathalie, you can’t fully understand as you haven’t activated the brooch. Adrien, on the other hand, has with that little nuisance. So long as he is with the cat, he will be safe with very minimal casualties. The only thing that could really hurt him is another holder or if he has any exposed skin that isn’t otherwise shielded.”

Nathalie sighed and sat on Adrien’s bed. “What am I going to do? What if Gabriel finds out? He’d absolutely kill me then.”

“Just don’t tell him. You’ve kept me secret.”

“I’m an adult and he’s a now rebellious teen. It’s not the same.”

“Then maybe you should be there for him, now more than ever. Help him. I admittedly don’t like the idea of helping any of the cat’s holders, but I know how you feel about the boy. And despite what you tell yourself, the boy does see you as more than just a nanny. I also know that cat doesn’t tell his holders anything until after the fact.”

“This seems like a bad idea.”

“What does that cat say? The bad ideas are the best, or something like that.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Duusu snuggled up against Nathalie’s neck. “About as much as you believe you’re Adrien’s mother.”

Nathalie rolled her eyes and kissed Duusu on his head. “Very well. I guess we wait until the storm ends.”

Chat and Louve maneuvered through the city and storm until they made it near the news station. The storm was the worst in this area. The wind carried with it glass shards from the countless shattered windows of the buildings in the area. A fog rolled in with the downpour made it impossible for Chat and Louve to see more than a few inches in front of them. Hail continued to fall with the rain, sharp and cold. Ladybug managed to keep her and Chat safe enough from the hail, but Louve had several cuts from it and the glass. Despite the weather, the news station glowed like a beacon in the night, surrounded by a cage of purple lightning. Once they were close enough, they took shelter in an office building.

Chat placed Ladybug down and guided her as she found her balance. He took her hand and lead her closer to the edge for a better view of their target. It was the only other thing Ladybug has seen since being plunged into darkness that wasn’t Chat’s eyes.

“What’s the plan?” Ladybug asked.

Louve looked at the building and focused on finding the akumatized person. “Trail!” A purple trail formed and moved towards the top of the tower. “She’s at the top!”

“Think we’ll fry if we try to get in?” Chat asked.

“I feel like we just might. Not unless we have luck on our side.” Louve remarked, looking at Ladybug.

Ladybug felt Louve’s gaze on her. “What?”

“Your Lucky Charm. You should be able to use that to get in past the barrier, right?” Louve said.

“But I don’t know if that will actually work! I know I’ll be blessed with luck, but I don’t know if there’s a limit to that luck.”

“It may be our only way of getting to her. We don’t know if our suits will protect us from a lightning strike the same way they protect us from the elements,” Louve said.

Chat placed a hand on Ladybug’s shoulder. “Give it a try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else.”

Ladybug nodded. She sucked in a breath as she turned back to the building. Her hands and body while she clutched her yo-yo. “Lucky Charm!”

Chat jumped back. The black spots on Ladybug’s suit glowed a bright red, offering liminal light. She reared back her arm and chucked her yo-yo. It sailed through the storm despite the wind and snagged the railing atop the news station. She yanked on the line, and it pulled her from their shelter to the building. The wind moved around her as the rain and hail didn’t touch her. When she neared the barrier, the lightning moved away from her as she grabbed the railing and hoisted herself up.

Ladybug peered out at the rooftop. The glow of the lightning offered just enough light to reveal the girl with snow white skin. The girl waved her parasol around as if it was a magic staff and she were performing a conjuration ritual. Ladybug’s eyes followed the pulsing light of the parasol. She had a feeling it was in there.

Ladybug threw her yo-yo, and it wrapped around the parasol. She yanked on the string and the parasol flew from the girl’s hands. She grabbed it and ran as the girl shrieked and pursued her. She dove off the top of the building, narrowly avoiding one of the lightning bars of the cage. She threw her yo-yo into the darkness and it snagged onto something. She pulled on it and it brought her back to the office building. She rolled on the floor, got up and looked around. She saw Chat’s eyes approach in the darkness.

“Is the Akuma in here? The parasol?”

“I think so.”

Ladybug held out the parasol. Chat reached for it, his destruction powers active. Louve ears twitched as dread clamped onto her. She turned to the news station as the barrier became a single ball of electricity. It streaked out towards them. Louve panicked and dashed forward. She pushed Chat into Ladybug that ended Ladybug’s charm, as the lightning hit Louve. Ladybug and Chat watched in horror as Louve took the bolt. Her chain ring bracelet sparked before she de-transformed and collapsed.

“Alya!” Ladybug screamed.

Ladybug shoved the parasol into Chat’s arms as she rushed to Alya’s side. He destroyed the parasol. It crumbled to dust as the Akuma flew from it and fell apart. The storm eased until it stopped, and the clouds parted. He moved beside Ladybug as she clung to Alya, sobbing loudly. He looked Alya over. She seemed ok on the surface. Her scratches had cauterized from the strike, but that was it. Her kwami was sprawled out on her stomach with smoke emitting from it and parts of its body blackened.

“Is she ok?”

“She is breathing and has a heartbeat, but why? Why did you do this?” Ladybug sniffled.

Alya shuddered and groaned. “Don’t worry, I’m alive.”

“Alya? Oh, thank goodness. What got into you?”

Alya grunted as she propped herself up. “Storm bitch had gathered her lightning shield and launched it as an attack. I couldn’t let you guys take the hit, could I?”

“You reckless bitch. Don’t do that again. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah. How’s Fang?”

“I’m alive too,” Fang wheezed. She twitched as electricity passed through her.

“Alya, we need to get you to a hospital,” Ladybug said.

Alya sat up. “I’ll be fine. I’m just a little woozy.”

Chat grabbed his staff. “I don’t think we should take that chance. Do you want me to carry her, or would you want to?”

“Let me take her. You should get home,” Ladybug said.

“But, wait, shouldn’t we use our Miraculous to fix things?”

“We’d drain our powers doing that. You might be ok, but with my charm, I only have a single use of my powers before I’d need to transform back.”

“There’s gotta be something we can do. We can’t just leave the city like this. What if we used it to clean up some of the city and create food for our kwamis?”

Ladybug considered. “Fang, is that possible?”

“You have the creation kwami, Ladybug. So, I’d like some biscuits please. With strawberry jam.”

Ladybug gulped and nodded. “Chat, what does your kwami like?”

“Camembert.”

Ladybug took several breaths, then scooped up Alya. She jumped down and placed Alya on the ground. Chat joined them, standing close to Ladybug.

“Ready?” Chat asked.

“Real quick. Can you replace my phone?” Alya asked as she raised her phone that was fried.

“We’ll try. I’m ready.

Ladybug and Chat turned towards each other. Circles appeared at their feet with a symbol in each of them. Their suits glowed as the orbs appeared in their hands. Ladybug took a deep breath, focusing on fixing some of the city and creating food for their kwamis.

“Miraculous!” Ladybug and Chat yelled as they tossed the orbs up. The orbs worked, destroying the debris, and repairing the buildings. Ladybug focused and a plate appeared in her hands with the food for their kwamis. The Miraculous faded not long after as the last spot on Ladybug’s earrings disappeared and the pawprint on Chat’s ring.

“I’ll be back once my kwami’s eaten.” Chat took the camembert and ran off.

“Tikki, spots off.”

Tikki appeared, transforming Ladybug. Marinette took Tikki and placed her next to Fang along with the plate. Tikki inhaled the cookies while Fang nibbled on the biscuit.

Alya placed a heavy hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Thanks for the new phone.”

“Alya, now is not the time. I need to finish here with Chat and get you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine. You should be more worried about Fang. She looks like she got it worse than me.”

“I’m not taking that chance. Tikki, spots on.”

Tikki vanished into the earrings, transforming Marinette.

“Chat! I’m ready!”

A moment passed before Chat reappeared. They nodded and used their Miraculous again. This one finished clearing the debris and repaired most of the damage to the city. Once it finished, Chat turned.

“I’ll see you later, Lady. Our usual time tonight?”

Ladybug nodded. Chat smiled, then ran off.

“Alright, let’s get you to the hospital.”

“Wait. Let Tikki eat first.” Fang said as she pushed the plate with the other biscuit half on it.

Ladybug nodded and de-transformed. Tikki sat on the plate and ate the biscuit. She flew up once she was finished. Marinette transformed back and faced Alya.

“Now, let’s go.”

Alya huffed and scooped Fang up. Ladybug knelt, allowing Alya onto her back.

“Hold on tight, please.”

Alya tightened her grasp as Ladybug threw her yo-yo and they flew off.